


Another Path: Sacrifices and Ghosts

by LonelyGodsMuse



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Loss, Aftermath of Possession, Aftermath of Sacrifice, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Stiles, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Cussing, Darkness Around Stiles' Heart, Derek is the alpha in Stile's original timeline, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Everyone dies but then they all live-well almost all of them, F/M, Female Stiles Stilinski, Human Alpha Stiles Stilinski, Mage Stiles Stilinski, Magical Stiles Stilinski, POV Alternating, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Has Nightmares, Tattooed Stiles Stilinski, Time Travel Fix-It, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 152,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5939740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyGodsMuse/pseuds/LonelyGodsMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles ran through the woods dodging branches that seemed to leap out of the blackness of the night and leaping over fallen logs that appeared determined to trip her.  Just a bit further-almost there.  Crashing sounds from behind her-right on her tail.  If she were to look behind her, she would undoubtedly see the red-black eyes of a dark witch.  The same witch that slaughtered her pack one by one—saving Stiles for last."</p><p>Stiles is the last surviving member of the Hale Pack and is fighting to destroy the witch who decimated her pack.  Stiles succeeds but dies in the process.  Except she wakes up in the Hale House before Kate and the Hale House Fire takes place.  She doesn't know how she got from dying in her present to being ten years in the past but she is determined to save her pack and the Hales--even if it kills her...again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This will be my second fanfic ever written and posted. This will also be my first foray into both the Teen Wolf fanfiction universe and multi-chapter writings. Initial warning: I am a full time student and my muse does not always speak to me but this is a story that I am passionate about so WILL finish but the updates will not be tied to any cycle. I ask that you please take a chance on this story and be patient with me. I am studying to be an author so any notes or critiques that you will have be greatly appreciated but are not required. 
> 
> Now, story basics: 
> 
> My story is canon divergent after the Nogitsune possession-- I love that storyline but feel it is unfinished.
> 
> Stiles is a girl--I absolutely love Dylan O'Brien and his acting but there are also not enough Fem!Stiles fics.
> 
> The explicit rating is because I will be delving into fighting scenes, death scenes, and torture scenes. Whether these are real or not, I will be describing them in detail. I have never written a sex scene but one or more could easily be added thus the warning will stay.
> 
> Instead of having Paige die, I sent her off to move with her family because too much bad shit happens to Derek. Kate will show up with her plot to kill the Hales via seducing Derek at the age of 15 (Sorry!) 
> 
> In the original timeline, everyone is 20 except Derek who I am declaring to be 25. The fire happened at 15, he comes back to Beacon Hills when he is 21, and fights until his 'death' at 25. 
> 
> Robert Hale- Derek's dad  
> Susan Hale- Peter's pregnant wife  
> Michael Hale- Derek's younger brother 
> 
> Zrobione is Polish for "It is done". At least it says so on Google Translate--I know it is unreliable but if anyone has the correct translation, please feel free to correct me!  
> I think that is everything huge but please let me know if I miss anything. Thank you for reading this!

Stiles runs through the familiar woods of the preserve dodging branches that seemed to leap out of the blackness of the night and leapt over fallen logs that appeared determined to send her crashing to the woodsy floor. _Just a bit further-almost there_. The thought ricochets around Stiles' brain, pounding louder and louder in time with her frantic heartbeat.

Crashing sounds from behind Stiles-right on her tail. If she were to look behind her, she would have undoubtedly seen the red-black eyes of a dark witch. The same witch that slaughtered her pack one by one—saving Stiles for last. With an extra burst of adrenaline and desperation, Stiles is able to find a reserve of speed and continues to fly through the woods of the preserve making her way towards her destination—the Nemeton. She cannot fail. She must get to the Nemeton or else everything—all the deaths, the sacrifices, the torture she had endured would be for nothing.

Breaking through the clearing, Stiles could see the large stump and immediately began to head towards it without slowing or stopping. Before Stiles can reach it however, a force from behind throws her body ass-over-teakettle and she lands on the ground and rolls until her injured body comes to an abrupt stop against the base of the Nemeton and lies there in a crumpled heap.

Attempting to gather her breath and assess the numerous amount of damage to her body, Stiles tries to move as little as possible but she does raise her eyes when she hear footsteps approaching. The witch is sauntering haughtily towards Stiles with the gait of the already victorious and overly pompous jock Stiles had originally compared her to when they had first met. The witch is tall—even more so now that Stiles on the ground, her willowy shape seeming to blend with the night air around her. She is wearing a black floor length dress that hugs her curves and shows an overly generous amount of décolletage which simultaneously complements her dark skin tone. Her violent red hair and her sharp red-black eyes are the only features that stick out from her otherwise shadow-like appearance—her dark magic swirling around her and clinging to her and obscuring her features like mist.

“You thought you could outrun me, child? Your pack of dogs tried and they were faster than you. What thought, what delusion, could have captured you so fully that you believed yourself more capable than them?” The witches voice was husky yet dripped with condescension.

The witch continues to step through the foliage and undergrowth of the preserve but does not head towards Stiles but instead begins to prowl in front of her, glancing at her as if she is attempting to solve an interesting puzzle.

Stiles says nothing but glares at her, watching her in return. With her breath back but still in pain, which Stiles pushes through, she sits up in the spot she had landed in. The witch does not appear angry that Stiles had provided her with no answer to her question—almost as though she did not expect one. Stiles could feel the power of the Nemeton at her back and in the roots beneath her hands. Remaining silent, Stiles lift herself up slowly, just enough to sit upon the large stump and rest there breathing heavily.

The witch takes notice of her change of position and comes closer but does not cease her searching stare.

“You killed my coven—cut them down as if they were nothing. Ruthlessness. I can admire that. Value, even.” The witch searches Stiles' face but continues when she remains silent, “You are a killer—unlike that rag-tag ‘pack’ you were with. I wonder if you would join me--or if you see yourself still as my enemy.”

“I only repaid in kind what you delivered upon me.” Stiles bit out as she continue to glare at her. “I will not join you—I would rather kill you slowly and painfully for all that you have done.”

“Tsk, tsk, Stiles. Such harsh words to pass between creatures of magic kind. What would your father, _the sheriff_ , say?”

 _I wouldn’t know because you murdered him_. The words are ready but Stiles bites her tongue. Instead she continue to watch the witch as she watches Stiles. She appears to be searching Stiles' face, her eyes sharp as they sear into hers—as if they could see through Stiles.

So distracted with her face, Stiles did not see her move until she was right in front of her and Stiles felt cold and heat mingle with pain. Looking down, in shock, Stiles saw that she had an athame buried in her chest. Stiles can feel the knife grate against her insides with every rasping breath she takes.

Tearing her eyes from the blade embedded in her chest and the blood spilling out of the wound, Stiles looks up into the witch's electric eyes. They appear oddly soft as they take in the plains of Stiles' face. Stiles can hear the wet gasps that escape from her mouth. The witch lifts one hand and begins to caress Stiles' face and run it through her hair.

“Shh Stiles. It’s all over now.” She soothes as she beings to lay Stiles back onto the wooden surface of the Nemeton’s trunk. So occupied with her own ministrations she misses the way Stiles' left hand had found its way into the pocket of her jacket. Pulling her hand back out, Stiles clenches her fist tightly around the powder there. The last card Stiles have to play. The play that was only to be used in the direst of circumstances.

Stiles can feel the cool wood at her back and can feel her lifeblood draining out onto the stump. The same stump that had taunted her, broken her into pieces, and repaired her, would now be her final resting place. Stiles begins to wonder peripherally what the people who will find her will say when they come upon her body in such a place? Perhaps they would think that the rumors surrounding her, crazy Stiles Stilinski, falling into a bad crowd despite being the sheriff’s daughter were always true?

Pulling herself away from her sluggish thoughts and the growing dimness of her vision and the cold seeping into her body as her blood sluggishly trickles out, Stiles notices that the witch is talking. _What is with the bad guys monologing?_ Stiles can’t help but think as she rambles on.

“…a pity, it’s really quite a waste. Your talents would have been useful. C’est la vie, and all that. Goodbye Stiles.” She makes as if to stand but Stiles grabs onto her with her empty right hand and gasps, “Wait!” She stills and looks down at Stiles but eventually pulls upright when nothing but wet gasps escape her lips. Stiles didn’t need the witch to be touching her for this plan to work—she just needed her to stay close for just long enough.

With the last of her energy, Stiles throws her left hand up and release the magic that had built up in her chest. The red sand flew into a perfect circle above Stiles' body, brightened and turned into a ring of fire that swept outwards. The sands would reach every corner of Beacon Hills and burn out anything supernatural with dark intentions. The witch beside Stiles started to scream shrilly and burn. Stiles watched as the flames engulfed her body and she attempted to run but was instead stuck to where she stood both due to the spell and the pain of the flames. Stiles could feel the spell dissipating at the same time as it reached the borders of Beacon Hills. She could feel herself slipping away but held on tenaciously, stubbornly— Stiles was nothing if not stubborn. She needed to see the witch burn.

The screaming cut off abruptly and the witch fell, as though someone had cut her strings, into a pile of smoldering ashes and bones. Stiles sluggishly moved her eyes from what was left of the witch who stole everything from her to look at the stars and the moon. They were both bright tonight despite the darkness. The moon was full and while that once filled Stiles with a sense of giddiness, now she only felt numb and tired. Her breaths were slower like her heartbeat. Stiles' time was ending. With one last long look at the moon, Stiles let out a gasp and finally lay silent. Her final words disappearing in the breeze and silence of the preserve Stiles used to love so much, “Zrobione.”

* * *

 

“Derek, slow down!” Talia shouts as she walks leisurely behind her fifteen-year-old son as he races through the woods of the preserve. She would be stricter in her reprimand if not for the fact that Derek looked so happy. Derek had begun to mope when he found out that the girl he had had a crush on, Paige, was moving away. She had hoped that the feelings that had manifested after Paige had left would resolve themselves but as the days drug on, she could not help but worry. Today however, the worry was receding as she took in the happy, excited countenance of her son—it is a happy revelation.

Talia’s cheerful mood subsides suddenly as she first feels a small shuddering sensation—nothing physical but as though something large had been magically altered and second as she catches the scent of rich copper. Shaking off the sense of foreboding she feels from the supernatural ‘after effects’ of magic, she swiftly takes off towards where the scent of blood originates. She can hear Derek as he quickly switches directions to follow behind her. She considers commanding Derek to return home to be safe but changes her mind when that could possibly put him and her pack in danger. Instead she allows him to catch up and continue following the scent of blood.

The trail leads the two Hales into a clearing—one Talia recognizes well as she sees the massive stump of the once towering Nemeton tree. Seeing the tree as it is does not surprise her but what does is what is laying on the surface of it. The still body of a young woman lays on it. She is unmoving and the scent of copper is overwhelming. Stepping closer, Talia takes stock of the surrounding area and deems the there is no threat and that whoever did the horrible act before her is gone. With that in mind, Talia walks to the tree to look at the young woman. She is laying on her back, her brown hair is long and tangled with leaves, sticks and dried blood which makes it appear almost black in some places, she is rather pale with moles dotting the skin of her face and neck. She is wearing sturdy clothing—jeans and a once white v-neck shirt along with a leather jacket that appears to be a size or two bigger than her frame. She is also covered in scrapes, bruises, and dried blood which appears to have its origins in the gaping hole on her shirt. Though there is evidence of where she was injured, the wound is closed. Not gone completely but as though the wound is months old. What catches her attention more than the lack of wound is the slow heartbeat she can hear. _It’s not possible. She should be dead._

“Derek! Call Deaton now and tell him to meet us at the house! Tell him it is an emergency and when he need him in his capacity as a human healer!” Talia barks as she moves even closer to the prostrate girl. She does not look up but she hears Derek pull out his phone and make his call. She zones out of the conversation too preoccupied with the odd mystery in front of her. She snaps back into reality when Derek touches her shoulder.

“He’s on his way.”

“Good. We must move her to the house. Help me.”

Both mother and son each grab an arm and lift her up. The girl remains silent and dangles between them as the two Hales begin to tow her home.


	2. Waking Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Some quick notes: I have some character castings!
> 
> Robert Hale: Luke Evans  
> Talia Hale: Alicia Coppola (Originally cast in the show)  
> Young Derek Hale: Ian Nelson (Originally cast in the show)  
> Stiles Stilinski: Phoebe Tonkin
> 
> I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Talia and Derek carried the unconscious girl through the preserve until they came out of the tree line and landed directly in front of their home. They quickly made their way up the porch where Robert Hale was holding the door open with a worried expression on his usually calm face.

 

“Deaton is coming up the drive. What happened?” He questioned as he followed Talia and Derek through the foyer of the house and upstairs.

 

“We found this girl, covered in blood, laying on top of the Nemeton. I couldn’t sense anyone or anything else besides her. Whatever or whoever attacked her is long gone. I thought she was dead until I got close enough. I told Derek to call Deaton and we brought her here.” Talia responded as she led the way to the guest room that sat just across the hall from Derek’s room.

 

“Talia? Robert? Derek?” A voice echoed.

 

“Deaton, upstairs guest room.” Talia shouted over her shoulder.

 

Deaton arrived upstairs and within the doorway just as Talia and Derek settled the girl on the bed. Talia, Robert, and Derek quickly stepped back to allow Deaton the chance to examine the girl but stayed within the room as a safety precaution.

 

“Derek didn’t mention anything besides you needing my help. May I ask who my patient is and what happened to her?” Deaton’s calm voice washed over the room, slowly anchoring everyone within.

 

“We don’t know. We just found her like that and brought her here.” Talia responded.

 

Deaton hummed an absent response as he began to assess the girl lying on the bed. Her long brown hair was tangled and wild across the pillow, her body and clothes dirty, torn, and bloody- a stark contrast to the clean blue sheets she was lying on.

 

Deaton opened her eyes to shine a pen light, took her pulse, and began to shift the girl out of her large leather jacket—being careful with both his shifting of her limbs and the jacket as it appears old and well loved despite its obvious age and wear. He held out the jacket and Talia signaled to Derek to take it and go through it to see if it held any clues to the mystery in front of them.

 

Under the jacket, the once white v-neck was now soaked in red, covered in dirt stains on the stomach and contained a fairly large hole over her ribcage where her unbroken skin peeked through—the evidence of a stabbing. Rather than be cautious with this item of clothing, Deaton scissors from his bag, cut the item off and removed it from the girl’s person. There was no sign of any wound which would account for the amount of blood on the girl’s shirt which was almost as shocking as the markings that did cover her abdomen. Scars and burns seemed to crisscross over her pale flesh turning it into a canvas of pain.

 

Before anyone could say anything, another wave similar to what happened in the forest swept through the air which resulted in two things: the girl gasped in a deep breath triggering her lungs and heart to resume their normal pace, and tattoos that were previously absent to appear on the girl’s skin. Deaton stumbled back from the unconscious girl—the first action Talia had ever seen ruffle the usually unflappable man. This action caused Talia to be curious, and cautious.

 

“It can not be.” Deaton’s voice was a whisper but even so, it echoed when he was in a room with werewolves. “Where did you find her?”

 

“The Nemeton. She was laying on top of the stump. Deaton, what’s wrong? Is she dangerous?” Talia responded quickly. “What do these tattoos mean?”

 

“The shift in the air just now. You all felt it?” Deaton looked to everyone to see them nod. “There was also one earlier. I am assuming that happened and you found this young girl shortly afterwards?”

 

“Yes. That was when I smelt the blood.” Talia confirmed. “On the Nemeton.” Deaton murmured seemingly to himself. He stretched out his magic and while he felt resistance from the direction of the girl, he felt no ill intent—only loneliness and exhaustion. The girl’s soul felt old, heavy, but full of love and light. There was an overhanging shadow of darkness that seemed to encircle the light that he found—present but not in control. Feeling secure in his magic’s evaluation, Deaton stepped forward while stating, “I do not sense that she is a danger to anyone here. Make no mistake however-- she is dangerous. Her magic is shielded. More than likely it was for her protection. These markings would make her a target since they mark her as a being with magic. What is odd however is that she is somehow connected to the Nemeton and caused those shifts that we all felt. She is out of place.”

 

The words echoed in the silence that reigned afterwards.

 

“What do you mean ‘out of place’?” Talia questioned as she stepped towards Deaton.

 

“Derek, did you find anything in her jacket?” Deaton evaded the question without acknowledging that Talia had even spoken. “Yes. There is a wallet here but what it says doesn’t make any sense. According to this her name is Stiles—who names a kid Stiles?” Deaton raises an eyebrow. “Right, sorry. Her name is Stiles Stilinski and she was born April 8th…1996. Which doesn’t make sense because that would make her 10 years old right now.”

 

“Exactly. It appears as though Ms. Stilinski is a woman out of time. I would estimate her being in her twenties right now.” Deaton paused. “What I would like to know is how she traveled to this time, what she is doing here now, and what her connection is to the Nemeton.”

 

Talia took a moment to absorb all of the information that had just been bandied about the room and finally spoke, “Her wounds Deaton. Do any of them need tending?”

 

Deaton looked down at his patient and sighed. “Many of the wounds I see now are years old, some appear to be recent but none account for the amount of blood that soaked her shirt. Was there any at the Nemeton?”

 

“No.”

 

“The second disturbance restored Ms. Stilinski’s vitals to the levels one would expect from someone in a deep slumber and if she is healed now, one must assume that the Nemeton is to thank for both fore she would not have survived her journey any other way.”

 

“But Deaton, how is time travel possible? I thought it was just science fiction?” Derek voiced from the far corner of the room.

 

“Derek,” Robert huffed bemusedly, “we are a family of werewolves living in a town where a magical tree calls to the supernatural beings of the world and time travel is what sounds the most far fetched to you?”

 

“In his defense Robert, time travel is not supposed to _be_ possible. When Ms. Stilinski awakes, I have my own questions for her.” Deaton interjected before turning towards Talia, “Alpha Hale, I have errands to run but before I do so, I need to check on Ms. Stilinski and while she may be unconscious, I doubt she would want an audience.”

 

“Of course Deaton. We will be downstairs in the kitchen. Please find us when you are done here. There are spare shirts and sleep pants in the dresser if needed.” Talia turned and walked out the door flanked by Robert and Derek.

 

“Well Ms. Stilinski. Let’s find out where you’re hurt.”

* * *

 

Stiles shifted on the soft, warm surface beneath her back but instantly froze as her memories flooded in. Her watching the pack die, running through the forest, being stabbed on top of the Nemeton, completing the spell to kill the witch and any other supernatural creature hell bent on being on the dark side, and finally, dying.

 

Keeping her eyes closed and her breathing and heart rate down, Stiles began to take stalk of her body. There were no broken bones from where she had slammed into the base of the Nemeton, her head was no longer pounding, and there was no pain radiating out from the stab wound in her chest. Stiles stretched out her magic which reported to her that while there were people in the house, no one was in the room she was currently laying in. On top of that, she was not bound to the room in any way—not even shackled or surrounded with witch’s bone which would negate her power for a short amount of time. With no one close by, Stiles moved her right arm to feel just over her rib cage for the damage from the athame but felt nothing but soft cotton. Confused, Stiles finally opened her eyes and took stock of the room she was in.

 

The room was unfamiliar and while furnished tastefully and comfortably, seemed to be rather bland as though it was a guest room—there are no personal details but the room appears lived in rather than clinical. _Perhaps someone found me and brought me here for safety_ a voice rang out in her head. _Or maybe they wanted to heal you to betray you later_. A darker voice whispered. Shaking her head, Stiles continued to catalogue the room. She was currently laying on a large bed that is facing the doorway, a window located on the wall to the right of the headboard. Two night tables surrounded the bed while a futon of sorts was resting at the foot of it. There is a small desk on the left side of the door and a tall dresser on the right wall of the bedroom where there were two other doors. _The bathroom and closet most likely_ , her mind supplied.

 

Through with the inspection of the room, Stiles finally allowed her eyes to take stock of herself. She was not in the same clothes she remembered wearing last but easily spots her— _Derek’s_ , her mind corrected harshly—leather jacket hanging over the edge of the futon thing. It looked as if it was placed with care rather than just tossed aside. The rest of Stile’s clothes were missing however and she was currently wearing an overlarge dark green Henley with thumbholes. The shirt while lying covered her and ended about mid-thigh. Cautiously, Stiles moved from the bed and padded softly to the door across the room—the one that faced the bed she had just vacated.

 

Sending out her senses again, Stiles was able to determine that there were no traps or any other magical deterrent that was awaiting her, she could also tell that four people were downstairs somewhere. She could tell that they were all grouped together in one room at the far left of the downstairs. She could also tell that all four individuals were supernatural: three wolves and one magic practitioner. Stiles’ magic gave her the impression of home, family, kindness, and slight worry filter in from the individuals downstairs. While these feelings would usually inspire kindness in the hyperactive girl, they only made Stiles feel lonely and weary. It had been so long since those emotions had been around her.

 

Shaking her head to dislodge her darker thoughts, Stiles took a deep breath and opened the door, slipping out of it and coming face to face with a hallway that had a total of seven doors and a curved staircase at the far end. Stiles padded towards it on bare feet, not making any sound. She descended the stairs at a relatively sedate pace watching her surrounding for any signs of a threat but none came as she reached the bottom of the staircase. She was left standing in a foyer in front of a door, more than likely the front door seeming as how shoes and coats were lining the walls. Still sensing no magical foul play, Stiles turned away from the door in search of the four individuals she could still feel within the house. Stiles noted as she walked through the house that she felt a strange sense of déjà vu as though she had been in this home before but she was having trouble placing the feeling. She pushed the thoughts to the back of her mind, as she seemed to come to the entry way to a kitchen. The voices that she had heard as she walked closer had petered off and were now silent as she stood at the threshold.

 

There was no door separating the kitchen from the rest of the home she had walked through so Stiles had an unobstructed view of both the kitchen and the people within it. The kitchen was extremely large and nothing matched. There were cabinets that were half class and half white wood which surrounded the furthest wall, long dark grey counters which were in some sort of system of organized chaos with mismatched appliances, a white subway tile backsplash, two built in fridges and stove, and a large center island where all four of the people Stiles had sensed were currently seated nursing what appeared to be hot tea.

 

When she was done taking in her surroundings, she focused on the people who were looking at her and observing her as she was them. There was a tall, willowy woman with a tan complexion, long light brown wavy hair that was below her shoulders, and a strong yet welcoming stance sitting closest to the door— _the alpha_. She has brown eyes and was dressed comfortably in dark blue jeans and a simple dark blue v-neck. Beside her was a tall, tan man wearing a blue button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows—he was also wearing suspenders with the top button on his shirt undone. He had short, dark hair that was parted to the left— _beta, alpha’s lover_. Both the alpha and the man were within close proximity to one another and wore matching silver wedding rings. Across from the couple, sat a young teenager. He has green eyes which his tan skin tone brought out, dark hair that was parted to the left like the man across from him but was flipped up and styled— _a son, also a beta_. He seemed extremely familiar, achingly familiar even. Stiles’ head began to ache as she attempted to sort out the two incidences of déjà vu that assailed her. Forcibly refocusing her mind, Stiles took in the appearance of the last man and this one she recognized instantly— _teacher, quasi-friend, mentor._

 

“Deaton.” The name slipped unbidden from Stiles’ lips.

 

The group, while still looking at her, seemed to freeze minutely before attempting to play it off. But Stiles knew better—she had seen them all stop moving and so as the alpha was about to open her mouth to speak, Stiles broke in, “Deaton, what happened? Where am I?”

 

Silence continued to reign and as it continued to build, Stiles found herself growing frustrated and angry. “Deaton,” She bit out. “I know the spell worked. The witch is dead and our final contingency worked. But something is wrong. I can feel it. You said that the final plan we had, the final failsafe could only be used when I was dying. Well I died so now is about the time you tell me where the hell I am and why I’m not dead.” Stiles stalked towards Deaton, making note of the werewolves shifting around him as though to head her off. Stiles continued forward and stopped right in front of the man as he held up a hand to ward off the protection of the wolves. _Foolish_.

 

“I am afraid Ms. Stilinski, that while you may know who I am, I have no recollection of you. You are right in the assumption that something is wrong. You are a woman out of your time.” Deaton replied calmly as though he could not feel the vast maelstrom of magical energy building in the young woman in front of him.

 

The wolves’ hackles rose as they felt a charge sweep through the kitchen. Their eyes rotated from the girl, Stiles, and Deaton, determined to step in should their conversation come to blows.

 

“What exactly do you mean?” Stiles gritted out slowly.

 

“I mean that you were found in the preserve laying on the Nemeton, covered and blood and brought here a few hours ago. I was called to assess your injuries, of which you have none but plenty of evidence to suggest some was done. You are safe here. What I meant by being out of time however is something I cannot solve. Today’s date is September 22nd, 2006.”

 

The breath whooshed out of Stiles’ as her mind began to spin. She tried to put the pieces together: the witch stabbing her, the spell succeeding and the witch dying, Stiles bleeding out on top of the Nemeton—Stiles froze. The Nemeton. That goddamn tree. That magical beacon that called endless baddies for the now deceased Hale pack to deal with, the overgrown magical bundle of roots that led to both Stiles’ worst nightmares and torments, and to her greatest power. Coming out of her mind, Stiles looked up to see the four people still staring at her but with far less defensive posture. Stiles looked straight at Deaton.

 

“The Nemeton. The Nemeton sent me here. But why? What could I possibly do?” Stiles posed the question to the room but no one answered. “Deaton, I know who you are but, who is the alpha and the two beta werewolves standing beside you?”

 

The woman stepped forward before Deaton could answer. “My name is Alpha Talia Hale, my husband and second, Robert Hale, and my son, Derek Hale. Please know that you are safe here.”

 

Stiles heard the words that came after Talia announced that she and the three people standing beside her were Hales but they did not seem to register as her breathing began to pick up. Stiles knew she was having a panic attack but she felt no need to stop it. Stiles felt her right hand claw at her throat and her legs give out as she fell onto her knees, her lungs screaming for the oxygen she had deprived them of. She could hear faint voices as though they were coming from a long way off but she knew that they were from the small pack of people in front of her— _the Hales_ —her mind supplied sharply. Stiles felt hands grasp her arms and felt another pair from behind wind around her body until she was pulled into someone’s chest but her vision of the world was fading fast. Stiles embraced the darkness—what else was she supposed to do when she was surrounded by ghosts?


	3. Dinner-Some Minor Adjustments Required

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you to everyone who is reading, leaving kudos, subscribing and commenting! You guys make my days! I'm sorry it has been so long since I updated. I have this chapter for you but I'm not sure how I feel about the ending just yet. I'll go back over it and if I change anything I'll definitely let you know in the beginning of the next update. Happy reading! Any comments welcome!

_ “You killed your mother...and now you’re killing me.”   _

 

_ “We’re going to destroy all of them, Stiles.  One...by...one…” _

 

_ “Everyone has it, but no one can lose it.  What is it?” _

 

_ A banshee scream that cuts off abruptly--Lydia! _

 

_ “Let me in!” _

 

_ “But Stiles, you killed Allison.  You gave the order.  You’re a killer Stiles.  A trickster.  Just. Like. Me.  It’s why I chose you.” _

 

_ “Stiles...please!  I can’t stop!  You have to.  Please.  You have to kill me.” _

 

_ “You’re a killer.  We don’t kill people, Stiles!” _

 

_ “I thought you should say goodbye…” _

 

_ A katana dripping in blood clatters to the ground. _

 

_ “No Stiles!  You don’t get to do this to me!  Not to me!  Don’t you dare!” _

 

_ “Torture is such an ugly word for a profession so wonderfully inventive.” _

 

_ “No!  No, no, no please don’t leave me!  Okay, no!  You can’t leave me all alone here!  You can’t leave!” _

 

_ “I’m so sorry Stiles.” _

 

_ A gunshot echoes.  The sound getting louder and louder.   _

 

_ “I love you.” _

 

_ Gasping breaths from drowning lungs.   _

 

_ “Look what you did, Stiles.  You killed him.  Just like you kill everyone.” _

 

_ “WAKE UP!” _

* * *

Stiles woke with a gasp, sitting up quickly with her hand outstretched towards the door.  Talia paused from where she had been about to step into the room.  

 

“I apologize if I startled you, Ms. Stilinski.  I was just coming to leave a note for you along with some of my daughter’s clothes as I’d imagine you would prefer to be comfortable.”

 

Stiles takes a deep breath and slowly lowers her arm.  “It’s fine.  You didn’t wake me.  Thank you for the clothes.  And please, call me Stiles.  How long have I been out for?”

 

“Stiles, then.” She smiled, “You have been unconscious for the better part of the day.  Dinner should be ready soon.  Please feel free to grab a shower and do anything else you need to.  You are more than welcome to join my pack for dinner.  I would imagine you’re quite hungry.”

 

“Thank you.  I am starving.”  Stiles paused,  “You don’t know me.  Why would you entrust the free reign of your home--let alone contact with your pack--to a stranger?”

 

“You mean besides the fact that I am a werewolf who could more than likely stop you should I deem you to be a threat?”  She questioned wryly.  

 

“Well of course there’s that.  I do sense that there is another reason however.”

 

Talia paused here and appeared to be weighing her words before she continued; “It may be faint but the scent of the Hale Pack is unmistakable on you Stiles.  You smell of pack.”  Talia’s words paused as she took in how Stiles’ body had frozen minutely, back straight and muscles straining to both move and not reveal motion as though she was caught between fight or flight.  “I will not ask you to tell me the events that brought you here right now.  I am naturally curious and protective of my pack.  I will respect your boundaries however and not force you.  I do hope that soon we will be able to trust one another with some of our secrets.”  

 

Stiles’ body had instinctively readied itself to fight or defend should she be pushed after Talia mentioned being able to still smell the scent of the Hale Pack on her but her body began to slacken as Talia’s words grew more comforting.  During Talia’s speech, Stiles’ eyes had found the sheet she was covered in to be quite fascinating and she began to twist the fabric between her long fingers--the movements that she could never quite get rid of thanks to her ADHD.  “Thank you Alpha Hale for your hospitality.  And your kind words.  I find trust to be hard to come by.  Especially now.”  Stiles contemplated Talia’s words before speaking again, “However, I hope that that day of trust comes sooner rather than later.”

 

Tension hung in the air but neither knew what to say to alleviate it.  Instead, Talia dipped her head in acknowledgment to Stiles’ words, placed the bundle of clothing on the dresser, and slowly closed the door.

 

Stiles stayed on the bed until she heard Talia’s footsteps disappear as they got towards the stairwell.  After the footsteps had gone silent, Stiles shifted off of the mattress and made her way towards first the dresser with the clothes atop it and then back towards the door to the right of the bed closest to the window.  

 

Stiles switched on the light and was immediately blinded.  Once the spots had cleared from her vision, she took in the room.  It was large with a dark grey counter top complete with double sinks and a large rectangular mirror hanging on the wall directly across from the door.  The white glare from the lights illuminated the space brilliantly bringing out the soft blues and greens of the color scheme while simultaneously reflecting off the chrome finishings.  At the end of the counter, sat the toilet and with a sizable gap away, the walk-in  shower stall and clawfoot tub took up the entire furthermost wall leaving the wall besides the door Stiles had just entered for towel and robe hooks.  

 

Looking away from the furnishings, Stiles stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.  Approaching the mirror, Stiles put her bundle on the counter and then looked up at her reflection.  She stood in front of the mirror and cautiously peeled off the overlong shirt she was wearing which left her only in her black boyshorts.  

 

Her hair was long and tangled and it appeared as though someone had attempted to remove the leaves and dirt that were trapped in it.  It was oily, chunky, and caked in dried blood-some hers and some best left forgotten.  Her bottom right lip was split and her eyes were wide and wild-like.  

 

Moving her eyes down her body, she noted that her skin was mottled in bruises: her right arm green and yellow from where she had been slammed into the ground when outrunning the witch, turning, her back was also a multitude of purples, yellows, greens, and even a large area of pepto-bismol pink showing her exactly where her back slammed into the Nemeton.  The old cuts, scars, and burns from mishaps, shenanigans with the pack, fights to the death, and torture that littered her body were numerous and old so she glossed over them to focus on the newer ones.  Looking at her chest, she could see with her own eyes that Dr. Deaton was right--there was no gaping hole nor even a mark on her chest that suggested she had just been staked onto the stump of the Nemeton recently.  In fact the area where she was stabbed looked unblemished as though the wound had never happened in the first place.  

 

Stiles waved her hand above the unblemished skin of her chest where her heart is located and the triskelion, the official mark of the Hale Pack, revealed itself.  The three black swirls seemed as though they were flowing once more across her skin until the lines and swirls solidified.  Stiles continued her investigation noting small bruises and cuts that would heal up quickly enough but nothing life threatening.  It appeared as though someone had also attempted to wipe off some of the dirt, sweat, and dried blood that had accumulated on Stiles’ body over the days.  

 

Content with her inspection, Stiles stepped towards the shower, opened its glass door and turned on the spray adjusting it for comfort with perhaps too far a leaning on the warm side.  Stripping out of her shorts, Stiles then stepped into the stall, closed the door and stood beneath the overly warm spray allowing it to flow down from her bowed head to the tops of her feet.  Blood and brown, muddy water and assorted greenery glided down her flesh with the water until it collected around her feet.  The water burned where it touched her sensitive flesh but not enough that she was going to lower the temperature.  Instead she just watched as the evidence of her last few days swirled into the drain as she reached for some soap to speed along the process.

* * *

 

Stiles stepped out of the room she had woken up in twice to begin her trek down the stairs where she could hear and magically sense multiple people--the pack gathering for dinner.  She knew that the pack could hear her footsteps and perhaps had even been keeping track of her as she had moved around upstairs.  Finding the notion of the pack tracking her comforting rather than creepy as she would have joked about years ago, Stiles started down the stairs.  

 

After her shower, Stiles left her hair down in waves to air dry and had donned the clothes that Talia had been thoughtful enough to provide her: a pair of baggy dark grey sweatpants that Stiles had tie around her waist to keep up, a pair of black socks, a freshly opened pair of red plaid boxers, Stiles’ black sports bra that she had been wearing earlier which appeared to have been washed, and finally a black wife-beater tank top which showed off her arms which showcased both her tattoos and her wounds, old and new. All together Stiles looked like a couch surfing teenager--an image so reminiscent of her old life that it made her heart ache with nostalgia.  

 

Brushing the thoughts and memories that accompany the emotions away impatiently, Stiles made her way down the hallway she had walked through earlier to get to the kitchen.   Walking into the kitchen, Stiles saw Talia and Robert moving around the space in a dance that seemed almost choreographed as they moved from one area to the next.  They never bumped into each other except on purpose to exchange kisses and to scent mark one another before they continued with their tasks.  The island was covered in the fixings for a large salad with multiple bowls of spices, vegetables, and dressings taking up considerable room on the large counter space.  Another area was cluttered with a fresh cutting board that Talia moved towards as she began to cut up a watermelon while Robert walked out the door to the side of the kitchen towards the backyard.  

 

“Hello Stiles.  How was your shower?”  She looked up at Stiles, “I’m glad to see that Laura’s clothes fit you at least.  Are you allergic to anything?”

 

“Hello Alpha Hale.  The shower was nice.  Thanks for that.  And the clothes.  No.  I’m not allergic to anything.”  

 

“That’s good.  Please call me Talia.  We’ll find some time to get you some of your own clothes so that you’re even more comfortable soon.  How do you like your steak?”

 

“Talia, then.  That’s completely unnecessary.  Thank you for the offer though.  Medium rare please, Mr. Hale.”  Stiles knew she didn’t need to raise her voice because she knew that Robert Hale had been listening in to the conversation the whole time.

 

“I won’t take no for an answer.  Besides, I really don’t think you want to be wearing my daughter’s clothes for the duration of your stay here.”

 

Stiles couldn’t disagree.  She felt awkward wearing someone else's clothes.  Especially Laura’s.  You know, the whole digging up half her body and accusing her own brother of murdering her thing kind of puts an uncomfortable spin on wearing her clothes even if she is alive now.  Knowing that Talia would win the argument regardless of any of Stiles’ protestations, Stiles acquiesced.  “Do you need any help?”

 

With a smile on her face Talia responded, “Thank you Stiles.  Would you mind taking the stuff for the salads over to the table?  It’s the first room when you walk out of entryway to the kitchen on your left.”

 

Stiles moved towards the island and began the process of transporting the food to the dinner table.  Following Talia’s instructions led Stiles into the dining room.  It was a large room furnished with an equally large, dark wooden table that had six place settings out.  The table was definitely long enough and appeared as though it could expand to accommodate even more people should the need arise.  

 

It took several trips but eventually everything that had been laid out on the island was situated on the large table with just enough room for everyone to sit comfortably.  Talia called that dinner was done without even raising her voice and Stiles could hear the footsteps of the approaching pack members.

A little girl with long dark brown, wavy hair and dressed in an overlarge blue t-shirt and black shorts bounded into the room quickly and ran towards Talia to cling to her legs while shouting that she had won the race.  Following behind her at a more sedate pace was Derek.  He was dressed in dark blue jeans combined with a grey tank top and a green and grey plaid button up over it.  Stiles was struck by how similar they used to dress since she was so used to seeing him in his leather jacket and signature henleys.  

 

Shortly following Derek’s entrance into the kitchen, he walked up to Talia and gave her a hug while simultaneously scent marking her.  He ruffled Cora’s hair which received an indignant squawk to which he let out a laugh.  Stiles was dumbstruck as she watched Derek’s eyes and face light up as he looked at his sister and Talia gazed on them both fondly.  The happy moment was pushed to the side as the back door opened to admit a very pregnant blonde woman who was dressed in a deep purple gown which contrasted nicely with her pale skin tone but did very little to hide that she was obviously towards the end of her pregnancy.  She was a little shorter than Stiles’ five feet six inches and had a blonde bob which complemented her round face and made her smiling blue eyes stand out.  Her face was open and had a ready smile on as she made her way through the door and said hello to everyone in the kitchen.  Her eyes immediately rested on me.  “Well hello!  I’m Susan Hale.  Peter’s wife.  It’s great to see you up and about, Stiles!”

 

The fact that she said she was  _ Peter’s  _ wife completely threw Stiles for a loop and she could feel her smile freeze into place.  Susan seemed to take it in stride however and turned back towards Talia, Cora and Derek so as to give Stiles a moment to gather her wits.  A moment which Stiles definitely appreciated but was gone too soon as the back door opened once again but this time in walked Robert holding the steaks as Peter followed in.  The two men were laughing as though a funny joke had been told and Peter’s face was open and happy--two words Stiles never thought she would apply to Peter.  

 

If anyone noticed the increased tension in the room after Peter’s entrance, no one made a remark as they continued to move around the kitchen.  Robert evaded Peter’s hands as he seemingly attempted to grab the steak right at the very top and continued into the dining room.  Peter began to follow him and poke Robert in the back.  This childish behavior definitely did not jive with Stiles’ memories of/or experiences with Peter.  Shaking her head to dislodge the confusing completely polar opposite images of Peter, Stiles refocused her attention to find that everyone minus Talia had made their way towards the dining room.  

 

Talia was standing on the other side of the island and appeared to be observing Stiles.  The inspection made Stiles uneasy but Talia gave her an understanding look and stepped closer with small, measured steps to telegraph her movements to Stiles.  Realizing that Talia was approaching her in such a manner, Stiles took stock of herself and found that she was standing rigidly with her hands clenched into fists that were shaking and she could feel her eyes glowing the burning golden-orange color they did when she used magic.  Taking several deep breaths and closing her eyes to center herself, Stiles regained control of herself and released the magic she was clinging to.  

 

Stiles opened her eyes to find Talia standing directly in front of her.  She was surprised to see that Talia did not look hostile or like she was going to interrogate her.  Instead, Talia had her lips quirked in a sad imitation of a smile that was nowhere close to reaching her eyes.  Her eyes looked fond and understanding but also curious.  A curiosity that she seemed to push aside.  “Are you okay, Stiles?”

 

Stiles nodded silently not trusting herself to speak.  She couldn’t understand why such a look from Talia would render her so quiet, meek rather than confident.  The look in Talia’s eyes made her sad and uncomfortable.  The only experience she could liken it to was the look in Mama McCall’s eyes when she had revealed to Stiles that during the Nogitsune incident Stiles had called her ‘mom’.   _ Oh.   _

 

Regrouping her thoughts under Talia’s thoughtful gaze, Stiles finally gathered her words enough to utter, “Yes.  I apologize for my outburst.”

 

“I know a reflex when I see one Stiles and I understand the need for one.  Like I said, I won’t pry but please also remember what else I promised you.  You are safe here.  You have my word as Alpha of the Hale Pack.”

 

Stiles nodded and both were silent as they made their way towards the dinner table.  As they sat Robert mentioned how Laura had called and said that work was running late and that she would be home later.  With this news out of the way and everyone seated, everyone began to reach for bowls and platters of food to begin filling their plates.

* * *

 

Dinner was filled with laughter, jokes, and ragging from all sides of the table.  Stiles sat fairly quietly from her seat at the far end of the table that sat directly across from Talia at the head of it.  She sat and took in the air of family, hope and happiness that she couldn’t remember existing in this house where it sat broken and burnt in her past.  She couldn’t reconcile the many differences in both the home itself and the people it housed.  

 

The pack did not disappoint with how much food they had consumed as almost every dish was empty except for the ones the family knew Laura enjoyed-- those would be set aside for her.  As dinner wound down, the banter seemed to be slowing as everyone took in their surroundings and began to settle into their miniature food comas.  Of course, when there’s a moment of peace, Stiles could always count on it being shattered.  And it was by none other than who she had suspected.  She could always count on Peter of course--no matter what time.

 

“So.  Stiles.”  He turned in his chair to pierce Stiles with his eyes that were both similar and different to the eyes that haunted her nightmares.  “Why are you here ten years in the past? Why were you found beaten and bloody in our backyard?  Fall into the wrong crowd?  Piss someone who you shouldn’t have off?  Oh wait, I know!  Dabbled in magic that was obviously too advanced for you.”  Peter’s smirk grew as if he could see his words stabbing into Stiles.

 

Here was the Peter that Stiles semi-recognized.  Gone was the happy-go-lucky smile and the easy going attitude.  This was Peter, protector of his family and resident prick.  Is it odd that Stiles kind of missed him?   _ I probably have brain damage.   _ His words meant little to Stiles and regardless of Peter’s aim to bristle Stiles or catch her off guard, Stiles found herself slightly amused at his clumsy attempt.  Future Peter was much better at dealing out emotional blows.  

 

Talia attempted to dissuade Peter from his mean little speech but I just watched them as Peter shushed Talia which resulted in her growling and flashing her red eyes at him until Peter bowed his head in acknowledgment.  

 

Even after being silenced by Talia, he looked towards Stiles as if daring her to answer.  Always one to rise to a challenge, Stiles looked straight into Peter’s eyes.  “I’m here because some bitch stabbed me through the chest to kill me and then a magical tree that I have a love-hate relationship with, decided that instead of _dying_ I should get sent back to a time where I get to see you and bask in your _magical presence_.”  


	4. Broken Promises Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A response to Peter's challenge and a visit to Deaton's. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, hello everyone! I am so sorry that it's been so long since I've posted a new chapter but I finally have one! I hope you enjoy! As always, please leave feedback :) Thank you all for reading and sticking with me:)

The silence was tense. It occurred to Stiles that every silence that had happened since her arrival was filled with tension. _So nothing’s changed then._ Everyone at the table was sitting with their backs straight as their heads swiveled between Stiles, Peter, and Talia waiting for the shoe to drop.

 

Peter barked a laugh startling the entire table. “I like this girl. She’s got sass.” He continued to laugh.

 

Everyone seemed to collectively take a breath and slump down in their seats. Though they looked at ease, their eyes continued to take in the scene before them.

 

Stiles grinned sharply. “Yes, I do. You’ll find however that my bite is much worse than my bark, Peter.”

 

Talia cleared her throat and Stiles snapped her attention back towards the head of the table, clearly dismissing any retaliation by Peter. “I believe,” she interjected coolly but with her lips clasped tight to not let out any of the laughter dancing in her eyes, “that while Stiles’ response was inspired, this line of conversation is at its end.”

 

A chorus of “yes, alpha’s” erupted from the gathered group. A small voice piped up shortly after Talia’s final words, “I really like your drawings Stiles. What do they mean?”

 

Stiles looked towards Cora to see the young girl smiling at her. Feeling no malice, just child-like curiosity, Stiles responded, “They are all symbols of protection. Magic. And some of them, I just wanted because they mean something to me.”

 

She took in the answers I provided, but ever curious, she volleyed out another question, “What about the scars?”

 

“Cora,” Talia chided, “we do not ask people about their scars.”

 

Stiles raised her hand to waive off Talia’s reprimand, “It’s perfectly fine, Talia. I don’t mind answering _her_ questions.” Stiles glanced pointedly at Peter and then returned her attention to Cora. “I got a lot of these scars by helping my friends. I saved them and their furry and sometimes not-so-furry butts when they did something stupid.” Stiles winked at Cora which made her erupt in giggles and bury her face in her hands.

 

Talia smiled kindly, indulgently and when she looked at Peter’s affronted expression, she couldn’t help laughing. Noticing Talia’s source of laughter, the entire table joined in while Peter made a grumpy, indignant expression that Susan took as prompting to poke him in the stomach until he too started to laugh and softly bat away her questing fingers.

 

Coming down from her laughing fit, Talia fixed her gaze on Stiles once more. “Stiles, I hope you don’t mind but I was wondering if you would mind seeing Dr. Alan Deaton later? You’re more aware today and I want to make sure you are properly ‘alright’.”

 

Stiles smiled. “I would love to see Deaton again. I bet you both have many questions but that Alan will only provide his maddeningly abstract answers?”

 

Robert chuckled good-naturedly, “Of course he will. When has he offered anything less?” Stiles grinned in response.

 

* * *

 

“Welcome, Ms. Stilinski. How are you feeling today?” Deaton’s voice rang out the second Stiles and Talia walked through the front door with the chime above echoing throughout the empty waiting room.

 

“I’m doing well, Deaton, thank you. How are you? And please, call me Stiles.” Stiles responded as she and Talia walked towards the counter where Deaton had already lifted the mountain ash infused barrier.

 

The trio began to head back towards the examination room. Inside was almost exactly how Stiles remembered it looking during her last visit. The silver table was barren and took up the center of the room with shelves and cabinets intermittently spaced throughout. The only difference appeared to be what was in the jars themselves. After assessing the room, Stiles returned her attention to Deaton to find him watching her, almost as if he were gauging and cataloguing her responses to her surroundings.

 

“Stiles, then. I am also well. Talia, I hope things are well for you?”

 

Talia nods her head and smiles kindly at Deaton in lieu of responding verbally. While taking in both Talia’s and Deaton’s body language and their exchange, Stiles jumps backwards onto the exam table and situates herself where she can keep both the front doorway they had just walked through and the back hallway in her line of sight. _Old habits die hard._

Deaton stepped forward, removing a pen light from his shirt pocket and began his examination. “Are you experiencing any discomfort or any unexplainable ailments since waking from your trip through time?”

 

“No. I haven’t felt any negative effects. Has anything strange occurred since my arrival?”

 

Talia interjects, “Besides a trembling throughout the supernatural world announcing when you appeared, nothing strange has arisen yet.”

 

Stiles nodded and watched as Deaton took her pulse and began to check her limbs for maneuverability. Eventually Deaton stepped back from Stiles and declared that she was healing from any injuries she had previously attained and that she was in top health. “I do want to test your magic though.”

 

Stiles smiled ruefully, “Of course.”

* * *

 

After Stiles stood from her seated position on the table, Deaton joined her by standing directly in front of Stiles and placing his palms flat against hers between them. Feeling comfortable enough in Deaton’s clinic and the territory of the Hale pack, Stiles closed her eyes, took a deep steadying breath, and began to seek out Deaton’s magic.

 

Stiles could feel Deaton’s druidic magic push against her magical boundaries.  Despite the decade gap, Deaton’s magic felt the same as it did when she was under his tutelage. His magic was calm and refreshing, it felt like peace and carried with it the scent of grass and clouds.  

 

Stiles took a deep breath and sank into Deaton’s magic, allowing him access to her own as it arose in greeting.  She felt Deaton jerk against her when her magic reached out towards him.  She could feel it twining around his form, around his magic, re-familiarizing itself, stretching.    

 

“Well done, Stiles.”

 

Stiles tilted her head slightly but otherwise did not react.  She could sense Deaton in front of her, Talia resting against the wall right beside her, and when she pushed her magic out further than the clinic towards the preserve, she could feel the entire Hale family.  Stiles’ breath whooshed out of her in relief.   _They’re still alive._

 

* * *

 

Deaton was shocked at how much power, how much potential, existed within Stiles’ small form.  She held immense power--the likes of which Deaton has only ever read about.  He could sense that despite the amount of power he could feel, that there was still more.  He could feel it lurking, skirting his senses, prowling like a wolf stalking its prey.  

 

Despite the presence of the excess magic, Deaton was duty bound to make sure that Stiles was no threat to the Hale pack.  He extended his senses and his magic to probe Stiles’ own.  What Deaton could feel was awash in emotions and scents.  The scent of fire, ash, tears, blood, and whiskey were bitter on Deaton’s senses.  Pushing passed the unpleasant scents, refocusing on emotions: he could feel anger--such anger, desperation, deep sadness and heartbreak, he could _feel_ Stiles’ exhaustion.  Rather than pulling himself back, Deaton found himself curious as to why Stiles was sent back to this time and if she was dangerous to the Hales.  With this in mind, he pushed forward.

 

He could feel shock ripple quickly followed by a warning prod from Stiles’ magic.  He ignored it and pushed through, moving his hands from her palms up until they rested on her temples.  He could sense and feel Stiles’ body freeze and lock up with her back ramrod straight.  He could feel the barriers that she lowered to allow him in begin to close their ranks.  He could feel them trying to push him out.  Pushing his way into someone’s mind was always messy and painful--it was Deaton’s least favorite aspect of being an emissary, even if he did it to protect his pack.  Wrenching your way into someone’s mind and rifling through their thoughts and memories was invasive and wrong--no matter the reasoning behind it.  

 

“ _Deaton, stop. **Now**._ ”  Stiles’ voice spoke, not aloud, but inside Deaton’s own mind.  Her voice was quiet, deadly.  It promised consequences if the order was to be disobeyed.   

 

Pushing passed his reservations; Deaton forced his magic into Stiles’ mind.  She didn’t scream.  He was expecting her to--everyone usually did.  Deaton throws open his mind, delving his consciousness into hers.  He felt Stiles’ body jerk back, her back bowing but remaining in contact with Deaton via his hands on her face.  Deaton’s surroundings began to fade into Stiles’ memories:

* * *

 

_At first, Deaton could only see an endless white room. It was a modern design with white everywhere: the floor was a shiny white that bounced back the harsh, piercing white luminescent lights that were housed in the white tiled ceiling with white columns lining both sides of the room. Deaton was wondering why Stiles’ mind would have a room like this. A room that has no exits and no discernable meaning until he sees that at the other end of the room, seemingly far away, the floor begins to look as though it was being uprooted. Deaton began to walk forward following the path of destruction. He could see thick roots tearing their way through the flooring. He walked the paths of the roots and as he did he began to hear strange snippets of conversation:_

_“I never wanted to hurt you, Scotty. You have to know that.”_

_“You’re a killer…just like me.”_

_“Stiles, you should have accepted my offer. I’d make it now but I’m not a stupid man. You’re more of a wolf than McCall ever was. You’d rip my throat out the second I turned my back—maybe even before.”_

_“I don’t care what you have to do—you survive. You understand?”_

_“I feel like I can’t get that piece of me back…” “You never will. You killed someone. That’s going to stay with you forever and no matter how much you search for that missing piece kiddo, you’re never going to find it.”_

_“Stiles, those deaths weren’t your fault.”_

_“You’re right, I’m a murderer. But I’m nothing like you.”_

_“She hurt my pack. She killed--. I’m going to tear her apart.”_

_“Don’t leave me! Please, not you! Please…come back.”_

_“Your father was a good man, Stiles.”_

_“For this to work, you will have to die.” “Come on, Deaton. What’s this like sixth time’s the charm? Maybe this time it’ll actually stick.”_

_“The Hale Pack is dead.”_

_The voices became louder, indistinguishable, and their words became jumbled as Deaton stumbled along the path of the roots he was following until he is able to see where they lead. Breaking up from the center of the floor is the stump of the Nemeton—still smooth and cut down, still living but transplanted into Stiles’ mind. Deaton wondered at just how intertwined Stiles and the Nemeton were as he made his way next to the magical stump. Deaton reached his right hand out to lay it upon the stump when suddenly vines shot out of the top and wrapped around his wrist. Before he could react, he suddenly found himself redirected._

**_******************************************************************************************************************************_ **

 

_Shaking himself from the odd experience, Deaton takes stock of where he is and realizes that the first real thing he sees is his own clinic reflecting back at him.  Confused, he turns to see himself--a little older, ordering around five teenagers.  He recognized Stiles but no one else.  There was a tall boy with a crooked jaw line, another teenage boy with blond, curly hair, and pale girl in a dress with brown hair standing beside a tall, redheaded girl.  Deaton looked down and he could see three silver tubs filled to the brim with ice water._

_Deaton looked up to see that the teenagers were splitting off, two to a tub.  The crooked jawed boy was holding a watch tight in his left hand as he lifted himself into the first tub on the left with future Deaton standing behind his back.  The brown haired girl settled herself in the tub on the far right clutching what looked like a silver bullet in her small, pale fist with the blond, curly haired boy standing behind her.  Finally, Stiles took the middle tub, sinking into the water until she was seated.  He could see her left fist clenching around something, her fist shaking due to the pressure and the cold.  The red headed girl stood behind Stiles with her hands resting on her shoulders._

 

_Deaton was horrified at what he saw.  What the hell was his future self doing?  Why was he advocating these teenagers--these children, to sacrifice themselves?  To die?  To **drown** themselves?_

 

_He watched, disturbed as his future self, the red headed girl, and the blond boy pushed the three in the tubs down until the water covered them completely.  Deaton stood rooted to the spot as he watched the three hold down the people in the tubs as they began to thrash and fight for air, he watched as each person in the tub stopped fighting and finally went still.  He watch three teenagers die.  And he seemed to be the reason why.  Deaton quickly turned away from the memory, jumping into another._

 

_******************************************************************************************************************************* _

 

_Stiles was standing in the middle of a hospital room with an MRI machine just slightly behind her.  She was wearing a plain blue hospital gown on top of her jeans, and she was barefoot._

 

_“Have you figured out my riddle yet?”  A voice mocked from behind.  Deaton turned alongside Stiles to see a large figure in jeans, work boots, and a brown bomber jacket, who was wrapped seemingly head to toe in bandages with metal teeth sticking out from where their mouth should be.  Deaton came back into the memory when the figure began to saunter towards both himself and Stiles._

 

_“Your friends.  Your family.  Everyone who ever meant something to you...we’re going to destroy all of them, Stiles.  One.  By.  One.”_

_Deaton watched as tears began to fall from Stiles’ eyes.  She asked the bandaged man “why” but received nothing but a riddle in return,  “Everyone has it but no one can lose it.”_

 

_“I don’t know.”  Stiles’ voice was wavering yet strong._

 

_“Everyone has it but no one can lose it.”  The voice got louder and angrier and Stiles turned her back, hands running through her hair, tugging at the strands.  The figure started to unwind the bandages around their head.  Their movements getting faster and faster.  The pile of bandages growing large at its boot clad feet._

 

_“I don’t know!”  Stiles burst out and then froze, her head jerking up,  “...A shadow.”_

_Deaton watched as Stiles slowly turned to face her tormentor and saw herself standing there wearing a smirk._

 

_Deaton forced his consciousness to move on._

 

**_*************************************************************************************************************************_ **

 

_Deaton found himself in a large loft space.  It was empty of any personal items except a large desk in front of the windows, a bed at the far right corner, and a small coffee table with a large, brown couch facing towards it.  The apartment seemed clean despite the visible water damage at the bottom of the walls.  He could see a full moon rising outside from the large, loft style windows._

 

_A screeching, bang echoed behind Deaton and he turned to see Stiles come through the door in front of the curly haired boy.  They both made their way into the loft.  Stiles was dressed in a blue plaid shirt and dark jeans with a red backpack slung behind her and her hands full of groceries.  The boy was wearing a light blue v-neck shirt and jeans, trailing after Stiles, also holding grocery bags._

 

_“Hey Derek!”  Stiles shouted as she made her way to the kitchen.  “Happy full moon, Sourwolf!  I’m making dinner.  If you want any, get your ass down here and help.”_

 

_Deaton heard a grumbling from his right and he rotated to see that there was a spiral staircase and a man was descending it.  He was bulky, dressed in a red Henley and dark jeans, barefoot.  He wore a disgruntled expression on his bearded face, and his hair was short but stuck out in multiple directions.  He padded his way to the kitchen and Deaton followed, interested._

 

_He looks into the kitchen to see the blond boy standing close to Stiles and helping her by grabbing things that are just out of her reach as she stands at the counter chopping up carrots.  Derek walks in and when she notices this, she turns towards him and smirks.  “Sleepywolf.”  Derek growls low in his throat and flashes his red eyes at her to which she responds by laughing.  Deaton was taken aback at the sight of Derek with red eyes.  Derek shouldn’t be an alpha.  Something had to have happened.  But what?_

 

_Deaton checked out of the conversation in front of him and instead just watched how the three interacted.  Derek, Isaac (he learned the boy’s name after Stiles had laughingly chastised him for grabbing a handful of the freshly cut carrots to eat), and Stiles moved around the kitchen as though they had been doing it for years.  Isaac moved between Derek and Stiles, scenting them constantly and receiving scent marking in return.  The trio looked like a family.  Stiles even called him her ‘baby beta’ which caused Isaac to blush horribly but stand beside her with a large, pleased smile and Derek to roll his eyes good-naturedly.  Deaton was caught off guard with the longing and sadness that swept through him.  He pinpointed the feelings and traced them back to Stiles herself._

 

_Feeling that the memory was too private and he had spent enough time lingering, Deaton moved on._

 

_****************************************************************************************************************************  
_

 

_Rain was pouring.  The rain was so thick that visibility was minimal.  Deaton couldn’t get wet but he knew that he would have been soaked instantly if he had been there.  He watched as Stiles approached a tall, Asian girl.  The girl was dressed in a short black, pleated skirt and blue, flower printed t-shirt.  She was drenched from head to toe.  Her long, brown hair was hanging down in her face and she held a katana sword in both her hands._

 

_Looking around, Deaton could see the boy with the crooked jaw, along with Derek, and Isaac on the ground bleeding.  The red headed and brown haired girls were nowhere to be seen.  Stiles was the only person standing.  She stood between the girl and her fallen pack with her palms facing out and towards the girl as if she were approaching a frightened animal that would attack without provocation._

 

_“Kira, please.  Let us help you.  This isn’t you.  You didn’t kill Liam on purpose.  It wasn’t your fault!”  Stiles voice pleaded to the girl, she had to raise it to be heard over the loud droplets of the rain._

 

_“I can’t give up this power.  I was weak before.  But I’m not now.”  The girl shouted back.  Her eyes glowed an unnatural orange color and an orange aura began to rise above her own humanoid shape into the form of a fox.  She was a Kitsune.  Stiles and Kira continued to trade words as the pack began to pick themselves up and attempted to get closer to the two.  The pack was brought short by some sort of force--presumably Stiles’ power.  They began to rant and rave but Deaton only focused on the two female figures._

 

_Before his eyes, the Kitsune’s eyes flared even brighter and her sword, and the lightning engulfing it, were slashed in Stiles’ direction.  Deaton watched as Stiles raised her hand, deflecting the blow and begin to respond defensively with her magic.  Stiles was clearly the more powerful player but she continued to deliver defensive magic until the Kira girl attempted to harm one of the pack outside the shield Stiles had created.  Though the attack didn’t land, Stiles reacted instinctively and began to attack the Kitsune.  Deaton saw when the katana changed hands.  He saw when Kira’s eyes and began to fade to a normal color and her aura rebel against her calming._

 

_“Stiles, please.  I can’t control it.”  The girl begged._

 

_“No.  Don’t make me do this.  We can help you.”_

 

_“Stiles...please!  I can’t stop!  You have to.  Please.  You have to kill me.”_

 

_“Kira…” Stiles choked back tears._

 

_Kira suddenly curled into herself, her hands going to her head and she began to scream.  Her eyes shifted between burning orange and her regular eye color.  Her aura began to rise again and her screams became even louder as she clutched her head.  She jerked her head up at Stiles and whispered brokenly, “Please!”_

 

_Stiles nodded, gripped the katana in her palm, and lurched forward imbedding the blade in the girl’s stomach.  The girl gave a grunt and began to pitch forward.  Stiles caught her body against her own, pulled out the sword and dropped the blood covered blade to the ground where it made a terrible clattering noise until it finally fell silent._

 

_Stiles lowered herself and the girl to the ground where she proceeded to curl herself around the fatally injured girl.  “Kira, I’m so sorry.”  She sobbed out._

 

_Kira grasped one of Stiles' hands and kept repeating, “It’s okay.  This isn’t your fault.”_

 

_She kept repeating it until she finally fell silent. Her hand loosened from where she had been clutching Stiles’ and her form slouching deeper into Stiles’ arms.   Deaton was about to turn away to go towards a new memory when suddenly a sharp pain exploded in his mind.  He dropped to his knees clutching his head in agony._

* * *

Deaton suddenly found himself back in his own mind pinned up against a wall in his clinic by an arm across his chest.  He looked up into Stiles’ face and found her eyes a blazing amber color and her teeth barred, a growl emanating from deep in her chest.  

 

The power he felt from her before seemed to have doubled and was gathering around her like a waiting storm. He could sense Talia from where he was, he felt her ready to spring between them should it be necessary but he also felt her wariness. He knew that she had hated the fact he was going to probe Stiles’ mind but she also knew it had to be done. Knowing instinctively that he would be no match for Stiles and her ire, he held himself as submissively as possible in his current position—not easy to do when Stiles shifts her arm to pin him harder against the wall. He can still hear and even feel the growl that is erupting out of her. She doesn’t seem to be aware of it as her eyes burn into his, the glow intensifying as she assessed him—a wolf stalking its prey.

* * *

 

Stiles tried to reign herself in but she couldn’t. She had felt safe here in Deaton’s clinic. Here with Talia at her back but she had been wrong. This was not the same Deaton from her timeline. That Deaton had known Stiles, had known her strengths and limitations, had known when to stop pushing. He had known to _never_ invade her mind. To never rifle through her thoughts and memories and nightmares.

 

This Deaton had never met her. He had never mentored her or helped bring her back from the brink of self-destruction. This Deaton was not _her_ Deaton. As much as the two in her timeline had clashed over various subjects, they had an intrinsic, unspoken understanding. This Deaton was bound to the Hale Pack but not _her_ Hale Pack. Logically Stiles knew that Deaton was doing his duty as emissary to protect his pack but Stiles was not thinking logically right now. No, right now Stiles was feeling violated. She felt betrayed and as though some of her wounds had been flayed open for anyone’s perusal and sick enjoyment. Stiles no longer felt safe in the place that she had in the last few months, found some form of rest. _But it’s not the same_ , she thought bitterly.

 

Drawing in the more violent of her urges and the more volatile aspects of her magic, Stiles proceeded to affix her gaze until she was looking Deaton directly in his eyes. She knew that all of her magic hadn’t receded but Stiles was too angry to care. She pinned her glare on him, boring into his eyes and said deathly quiet, but steadily, “The only reason you are still alive after that mind rape is because in my timeline we are friends and because I understand why you did it. Is that clear?”

 

Deaton nodded without a word. He had his head tilted to the side baring his neck to Stiles as a sign as submission. Stiles had no doubt that he would refuse to meet her eyes as another sign of submission if she hadn’t sought them out herself.

 

“You will _never_ do that to me again. I am part of the Hale Pack. I am the Hale Pack emissary and I am a High Mage who has tied herself to the Hale Pack. I am not here in this time to hurt the very pack I am a part of. I don’t know why I was sent back but I’m beginning to realize the reasons. I would die—and I have died—for this pack and I would gladly do it again. Are we clear?”

 

Deaton nodded once more, his eyes showing a deep concentration while he held on to his usual, blank face façade. Before letting Deaton down from his position at the wall, Stiles rotated slightly to look at Talia. She knew that Talia was there the whole time and that she would only interfere if necessary. Talia appeared torn as she glanced from Deaton’s prone form to Stiles’ defensive one.

 

“You asked me to trust you Talia. Do you remember that?”

 

“Yes, Stiles, I do.” Came the quiet reply.

 

“This display does not help on that front. But like I said, I understand.”

 

* * *

 

Talia could only nod as she looked between Deaton and Stiles. She could also understand where Stiles was coming from. She had admitted when she first woke up that she had expected to be dead and was upset when she found out that not only had she lived but that she had been sent back ten years in her past. Talia could imagine how whatever trauma she had suffered on top of those revelations would make her wary of trusting anybody but Talia needed to protect her pack. She knew that Stiles had smelt like pack, but she also knew that Stiles was very powerful and that her arrival could only be a herald that something was coming.

 

Stiles’ eyes were still glowing a violent amber but she released Deaton and stepped back allowing him to slither his way away from both the wall and Stiles’ anger. Talia continued to watch Stiles. And as she started to speak, Stiles’ eyes found Talia’s.

 

“I’m sorry about the assault that we’ve perpetrated on you. I should have trusted my instincts when they said that you were pack. Deaton was not supposed to delve into your mind—only read your magic to get a feel for it.” She turned towards Deaton, “I don’t care if you did it to protect the pack, we have _never_ subjected our allies and friends to that torture. I don’t even like it when you do that to our enemies. This won’t happen again. Understood?”

 

Deaton’s expression seemed shamefaced—or at least as shamefaced as he could manage. Feeling as though that particular conversation was finished for now, Talia dropped it to continue to reassure the angry young mage that what had just happened to her was inexcusable. Stiles still radiated anger but Talia could also sense betrayal. The scents seemed almost intertwined as though they had been in great company many times before.

 

Talia watched as Stiles took turns looking between Deaton and herself until she finally settled her slightly less glowing eyes on Talia’s. Stiles then began to speak, “You said earlier that I had free range of your home. Does that also mean that I can come and go as I please?”

 

“Yes. You are not a prisoner Stiles.”

 

Stiles nodded as if she was saying _damn straight_ and turned to leave out of the back door. Just before leaving however Stiles turned once more to look at Talia, “There are some things I wish to do. I will see you at the Hale house?”

 

“Of course, Stiles.” Talia reassured. Nodding once again, Stiles had her hand on the door handle pulling the door open when Talia stepped towards her, she needed to say one more thing, “I meant what I said earlier Stiles. Everything.”

 

Stiles paused, waiting.

 

“You’re not a prisoner. And I never wanted to push you. Never wanted to force you to tell me what happened. I still hope that we will find that one day when we can trust one another.”

 

Stiles looked back at Talia with an unreadable expression, she nodded her head slowly once, and then she was gone.


	5. All I Can Give You Is Memories, Carry Them With You and I'll never Leave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles needs to get away, she needs to find some outlet to unleash her magic on. What happened at Deaton's has left her psyche frayed even more than it was and Stiles gets exactly what she's been unknowingly searching for--a purpose and Talia gets what she wanted--a chance to gain Stiles' trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I'm back! I'm sorry for how longs it's been since I've updated but here I am with a slightly longer update! Please let me know if there are any errors. As always, please enjoy and leave any comments. Thank you! P.S. Chapter title is taken from the song, "Don't Let Me Go" by Raign.

Stiles pulled Derek’s jacket tight around her lightly shivering form as she continued to walk away from Deaton’s clinic.  She was extremely glad that before Talia and  Stiles had left for Deaton’s clinic that Talia had returned Stiles’ laundered clothes--or at least what was left of them.  Her white v-neck had been unsalvageable but her favorite jeans and Derek’s jacket had survived thankfully.  They shielded her from the elements even more than the tank top and sweatpants of Laura’s would have.  

 

After zipping up the jacket to her throat, she shoved her hands into the pockets rolling around the contents in an attempt to center herself.  Despite her eyes no longer glowing, her magic was just beneath the surface, roiling beneath her skin, pushing and prodding at her mental barriers--she needed to find an outlet.  

 

Stiles ran through places she could go in her mind and found herself growing even more frustrated when every place she would have gone to is no longer viable.  The old Hale House?  No longer a burnt, forgotten structure. Her home?  It wasn’t her home right now.  Deaton’s Clinic?  The idea alone made Stiles’ magic lash out causing the glass in the streetlights above her to shatter.  Stiles waved her hand offhandedly and the glass returned whole to its original place as though nothing had ever happened.

 

Every single place Stiles considered was vetoed almost immediately.  The abandoned train depot? Derek’s old loft?  Who knows what state those would be in.  In addition, just considering the old loft trudged up memories and emotions that Stiles could not deal with in her already frayed mental state.  

 

Stiles shivered, clenching her hands into fists, taking deep, controlled breaths.  Stiles noticed belatedly that she had stopped walking on paved streets at some point during her journey and was instead walking through the woods.  Stiles didn’t have to think too long about where her feet had thoughtlessly been leading her.   _Of course, where else?_

 

Stiles continued to walk deeper and deeper into the woods dodging tree branches and fallen logs until she came upon the clearing that had haunted both her dreams and her waking hours.  The place that had been what she originally thought to be her resting place.  The Nemeton was just how she remembered it being.  A giant stump in a clearing surrounded on all sides by trees with its roots punching through the earth surrounding it.

 

Stiles stepped closer until she was a hand's breath away touching it.  She began to rotate around it, slowly, cataloguing the changes and just observing it.  This Nemeton still had the Nogitsune buried deep within its roots waiting to be released.  Waiting to take over Stiles’ body.  She could feel a connection between herself and the tree stump.  Between herself and the trickster spirit that lay immeshed within its wooden depths.  Stiles could feel the power inside herself calling to the power buried within the stump’s intricate paths and roots.  Her magic was rising up to meet both the tree and the darker presence and she let it feeling the three powers dance around one another, twining themselves through and through, interwoven, connected despite the distance of time and reluctance on Stiles’ part.  

 

Following some pull in her stomach, Stiles clambered onto the smooth, wooden surface to sit cross legged facing the way she came.  Stiles could already feel her hammering pulse and the pounding of her magic settle minutely beneath her skin allowing her to pull in deeper breaths and her shoulders to loosen.  

 

_“Meditation should work well for you, Stiles.  It will calm your magic and your mind.”_

 

_“Oh of course, Doc.  I’ll just pop a squat somewhere, take deep breaths and repeat ‘ohm’ for an obnoxiously long time.  And I’m sure my ADHD won’t have any problem with that at all.”_

 

_Deaton shot a slightly put-out look at Stiles and all he received back was a smirk.  Shaking his head, Deaton motioned for Stiles to sit on the metal table in his clinic with her legs crossed and directed her to close her eyes._

 

_Stiles began to chant “ohm” until Deaton called her name, snapping her attention to him.  “Just breathe deeply and feel your magic.  Everything else will fade out.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.”_

 

Stiles shook her head to remove the memories of her first lesson on meditation with Deaton to see that she had closed her eyes at some point and that she was indeed calmer than when she arrived.  Stiles could feel something tugging at her, something deep, primal calling out to her.  Settling even deeper into a comfortable position, Stiles closed her eyes once more, taking in deep breaths.  Knowing even more memories would surface but unable to ignore the longing tugging at her heart, the primal tugging within her very soul, Stiles allowed her mind to wander once more as her body sank into a trance atop the Nemeton.  

* * *

 

_Stiles’ bedroom window opened with a near silent shnick and a soft thud as two booted feet landed on the floor._

 

_“Stiles, are you up?”_

 

_Stiles rolled over in her bed to face Isaac and when she saw his haunted expression, tear tracks partially dried on his face, Stiles beckoned towards him without a word, shifting to leave room for Isaac to climb into her bed beside her.  She watched as Isaac closed the open window, removed his shoes, his jacket and jeans and placed them on Stiles’ computer chair.  Then she lifted the sheet for him to climb in.  Isaac settled on the bed, laying, almost perching awkwardly until Stiles rolled her eyes fondly, pulled herself up higher on the bed until her back was cushioned on her pillows and then she pulled Isaac’s head onto her chest, hugging him close._

 

_Stiles could feel Isaac clutching her to him, his shuddering breaths that rocked his entire form and she could feel a wet spot growing on the front of her night shirt.  She sat there for who knows how long just rocking Isaac back and forth until eventually his tears dried and his shaking subsided.  Silence reigned as one of Stiles’ hands carded through Isaac’s soft curls while the other ran up and down his back._

 

_Isaac eventually broke the silence with a quiet whisper, “I’m sorry I woke you up I just--”_

 

_“Shh, you never have to apologize, Isaac.  I’m here for you.”_

 

_Isaac shifted his head, pulling himself even closer to Stiles without responding.  Stiles let him have his silence, waiting for him to break it once again._

 

_“I had a nightmare,” came his soft, halting voice, “well it was more a memory than a nightmare.  It was after dad and I learned that Camden had died in the military.  Dad wasn’t coping.  He was drinking all the time and he had already started yelling at me, hitting me.  He-”  Isaac broke off to take in a deep settling breath, “He already was doing all of that.  He’d even started locking me in the freezer in the basement.  Chaining it to make sure I couldn’t get out.”_

 

_Stiles eyes flashed in the darkness as the hand she had on his back formed itself into a fist.  Knowing Isaac would be able to sense her emotions, she quickly released her fist and continued to rub his back but her eyes remained glowing, anger pulsing through her but shielded from Isaac’s senses.  ‘He’s already dead and Isaac is here’  Stiles chanted over and over to herself in an attempt to calm herself and her magic but despite the reassurance of Coach Lahey never returning to hurt Isaac again, her magic remained coiled and ready to strike._

 

_Softening her voice so as not to frighten Isaac, Stiles asked him what his nightmare was about.  Isaac took a moment to respond but he eventually broke the silence once again._

 

_“He got really bad one night.  It was late September, it was my tenth birthday actually so the 23rd.  I asked him why I couldn’t have cake on my birthday because I had remembered that Camden always got cake and presents on his birthday and dad just...lost it.  He called me selfish and ungrateful.  He told me I was worthless.  He threw his beer bottle at my head and the glass shattered behind me.  I fell down and scraped my hands up on the broken glass.  He got up and he started walking towards me and I tried to crawl away.  He grabbed my ankle and he dragged me back over the glass and I was screaming and crying but he didn’t care.  He just kept dragging me and calling me a moron and a whole bunch of other things.  He dragged me to the basement door and then after he opened it, he picked me up but my legs wouldn't work no matter how much he yelled at me so he just shoved me down the stairs.  It hurt so much.  My head was bleeding and everything was moving funny, my body hurt so much and I tried to crawl away from my dad as he came down the stairs but everything was moving.  He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the freezer.  He opened it and then he just threw me over the side of it until I was inside it.  I hit my head and my body hurt even more and I screamed and cried.  I asked him not to leave me in the freezer, not to lock me in there and he just ignored me.  He looked me right in the eyes and he said that he wished I had died instead of Camden.  And then he closed the lid and I could hear him chaining up the freezer so I couldn’t get out.  I screamed and begged and cried until I couldn’t any more, I was digging at the top of the freezer, scratching the top until my fingers were bleeding and kicking at the sides until I grew tired and I just fell asleep.  I didn’t know how long I was locked in the freezer that time.  He eventually pulled me out and he gave me the most disgusted looks and made me clean out the freezer--I guess I had been there a long while because I couldn’t remember going to the bathroom but the freezer and I were gross.  He told me to clean myself up and to fix the house and then he left to go to work.  He didn’t come home for the next two days.  After that I stopped asking about my birthday.  And about Camden.  No matter what though, he’d find some reason to call me names and to throw things at me and to lock me in the freezer.  I couldn’t do anything right in his eyes.”_

 

_Isaac stopped talking but his shaking had returned and he had begun crying again, heaving in deep, shuddering breaths and sobbing, his whole body shaking with emotion.  Stiles could only sit silent, horrified and angry beyond belief, as she rocked Isaac until he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.  Stiles couldn’t let go of Isaac no matter how much he squirmed in her arms when whatever he was seeing in his sleep disturbed him.  Instead she sat leaning back against her pillows with Isaac’s head on her chest, his limbs wrapped around her like an octopus as tears made their way down her own face and her arms tightened around Isaac’s form, shushing him when he grew restless._

* * *

 

Stiles pulled herself from the memory gasping with tears streaming down her face.  Her chest was on fire, her gasps robbing her of oxygen.  She would fall into a panic attack if she couldn’t control her breathing but when she tried to, her mind was unceremoniously pulled back under.

* * *

 

_“Well I’m going to head out to grab some groceries for tonight’s pack dinner.  You want to come with Boyd?  I’ll be heading to Derek’s afterwards.”_

 

_Boyd looked up from where he had been staring blankly at Stiles’ television._

 

_Boyd had arrived outside the Stilinksi’s house unannounced a few hours after Isaac had left. Stiles had wanted to wish him a good birthday but with how he came to her earlier, she felt as though she should wait until she saw him later. After Isaac had left, Stiles had moved about her day until a knock had sounded and she had opened the door to see Boyd clad with an uncomfortable, sad, determined, hollow in a way look and without questioning it, Stiles had let him in.  That had been two hours ago.  Stiles could tell that something was bothering him but she knew that he would talk if and when he wanted to so she let him wander through her home and settle where he felt comfortable._

 

_Boyd nodded his head, stood up from her couch and followed her outside.  He waited for Stiles to close and lock her front door and then he followed her to her jeep.  They both got inside and Stiles began to drive them to the corner store down near Main Street.  Stiles was half tempted to either put on some loud music to listen to or begin talking to fill the silence but she ignored these wants and allowed the silence to fill the jeep._

 

_When they got to the store, Boyd was a silent but companionable presence beside Stiles as she completed her shopping.  Despite not offering any words besides small nods or shakes of his head when Stiles asked questions, he was silent.  After gathering everything on her list, Stiles was about to start walking to the checkout when she remembered that Boyd had a sweet tooth, a craving (obsession) with Hostess products so detouring, Stiles wound up in the manufactured sweets aisle and grabbed three boxes of anything even bearing the Hostess logo and tossed them in her overflowing shopping cart.  Except twinkies.  For some reason, Boyd avoided those like the plague.  She turned to see Boyd behind her.  He didn’t say anything but his lips were quirked in the imitation of a smile._

 

_Silently he reached out a hand behind Stiles to pull forward a box.  He held it before himself in his two large hands with his head bowed considering the box.  Upon closer inspection, Stiles saw that Boyd was holding a single box of twinkies.  Eventually, Boyd raised his head and made an abortive move to drop it in the cart.  He froze for a second, contemplating dropping it or returning it until Stiles stepped forward and gently pried the box from his grip to put it in the cart herself.  Boyd’s expression was blank but he did nod to himself and shifted enough that Stiles and the cart she was hauling could fit around him._

 

_The incredulous looks from the cashier would be funny if Stiles were paying attention to him instead of rolling the twinkie box and Boyd’s strange behavior around in her head.  The cashier had finished bagging her purchases and Boyd had already transferred them to the cart when the cashier gave her some ridiculous number and Stiles just handed him Derek’s credit card.  Derek had insisted that if Stiles was going to buy supplies and cook that the least he could do was provide some form of paying for the inordinate amount of stuff she always bought--thus the pack credit card was created.  Derek was rich from the insurance money he and Laura had received after the fire not to mention whatever money the Hales had before they had died.  He had said that the money shouldn’t go to waste and what better way than for helping out the pack._

 

_Boyd and Stiles loaded the groceries up in record time and were heading towards Derek’s loft when Boyd finally spoke._

 

_“I had a sister named Alicia.”_

 

_Stiles nodded silently.  She had known that Boyd had a sister who had disappeared when they were younger.  Today would mark the seventh anniversary of her disappearance thus explaining Boyd’s odd behavior today.  Stiles didn’t know all the details and after becoming friends, Stiles didn’t feel right digging into Boyd’s past so she had left it alone.  Privacy was already hard enough to come by surrounded by werewolves, there was no reason to reduce it even more._

 

_“I was ten and Alicia was eight.  She wanted to go to the ice rink to skate and my mom was working late so she made me go with her to watch her.  I was so annoyed that I had to watch my baby sister but I went anyway because what else was I gonna do?”  Boyd didn’t want an answer to his question, besides, Stiles didn’t have one.  “I got tired at one point so I went to sit down but I was still watching her.  I swear.  I was watching her and she was skating around.  There were so many people but I could see her skating and she was wearing this purple/pink sweater and jeans.  Her hair was up in this puffy hairdo my mom put it into and she was smiling.  But she was right there in front of me and then she was just--gone.  I got up and I ran onto the ice and I was screaming her name and asking everyone where she was but no one knew.  The police got called and they tried to find her and they kept asking me when I last saw her but I just kept telling them that I was watching her the whole time.  They never found her.  They still haven’t and I’ve been asking myself if it was my fault.  Was it my fault my mom stopped being around, stopped living her life?  Was it my fault Alicia went missing?  Is it my fault that she’s probably dead?”_

 

_While Boyd had been talking Stiles had pulled off the road and stopped the jeep.  They were still quite a ways from Derek’s loft and there were no cars on this stretch of road.  Boyd was sitting up rigidly in his seat but his shoulders were hunched in as if he was trying to make himself smaller.  His head was looking straight out the windshield unfocused, unseeing.  He directed his last question at Stiles herself however and Stiles’ breath whooshed out of her as she took in Boyd’s face.  He had tears falling from his eyes making tracks down his face and his eyes were so haunted, so full of pain that Stiles’ heart ached.  She couldn’t pull Boyd into her lap or pull his head towards her body like she could Isaac’s and even if she could, she wasn’t sure Boyd would be comforted by it like Isaac so she did the best she could.  She unbuckled her seatbelt, turned herself in her seat to face him head on and reached over to grab his left hand.  She squeezed his hand and sought out his eyes._

 

_“No.  It is not your fault.  None of what happened to you was your fault.”  Stiles could see that while her words and comfort were welcome, what she was saying had little impact on what Boyd felt he believed down to his bones that everything was his fault.  Despite his aversion, Stiles kept repeating them until Boyd’s tears stopped falling and the streaks that they had left behind slowly faded._

 

_“Twinkies were her favorite snack.  She’d eat them all the time and anytime I had some extra money I would buy her some at the corner store by our house.  She was addicted to them.  She said once that she would eat them for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even second breakfast, and elevensies if she could,” Boyd chuckled to himself.    “I could never stomach buying them after...after what happened but today--today feels different for some reason.”_

 

_Stiles nodded silently and let Boyd continue talking.  Boyd never spoke much so when he did everyone around him listened and now was no different._

 

_Boyd continued to reminisce to himself until eventually he nodded his head and murmured a quiet thank you but never let go of Stiles’ hand even when she readjusted in her chair, re-buckled her seatbelt, started the jeep and continued their journey to Derek’s loft.  The silence was welcome, pressing and charged but welcome all the same.  Looking at Boyd from her seat she could see that while he was still lost in sadness, he didn’t look quite as strangled by it.  He wasn’t sitting ramrod straight anymore nor was he just looking out blankly, unseeing as the landscape passed him and the jeep by.  Instead he was looking down at their clasped hands with an unreadable expression on his face.  Boyd held onto Stiles’ hand tightly and didn’t let go until he absolutely had to._

* * *

 

Stiles took in another deep, gasping breath coming to herself once more.  She was no longer on the verge of a panic attack but was instead only breathing heavily.  Her mind was her own, no longer feeling the pull that had been tugging at her relentlessly and was responsible for pulling her mind into her buried memories.  

 

Stiles could feel the drying tear tracks on her face, she could feel the cold flush on her face, her pounding heart, each breath as it forces her diaphragm to expand.  Stiles could also feel her magic.  It was no longer railing against the control Stiles had placed on it.  It wasn’t roiling under her skin and nettling her mind begging for an outlet to unleash her pent up rage and frustrations.  Instead it was lying just beneath her skin, crackling at her fingertips.  It was controlled but ready for any provocation, it felt as if it were biding its time, waiting for some future event to happen that would cause Stiles to set it loose.   

 

Stiles eyes were still closed but she could make out the moonlight that was bathing the trees and Stiles’ surroundings in it’s luminescent glow.  Stiles knew that a few hours had passed while she had been mediating, retracing old memories but found that she didn’t care.  She could feel a light breeze buffeting around her, through her connection with the Nemeton and her own abilities, she could feel the trees bending and dancing in the wind.  

 

In her mind’s eye she could still see her memories of Isaac and Boyd and how they had broken down were haunted by these memories and suddenly Stiles felt something swell up inside of her, concentrated fury and protectiveness.  She felt a longing, something echoing deep in her bones calling to her soul, to the very core of her and she knew instinctively what it was: purpose.  She knew exactly what she was going to do next.  She was going to protect her pack.

* * *

 

The ice rink was packed just like Boyd said it was because it was 9 on a Friday night.  There were tons of people skating in circles around the center, a cluster of individuals spaced out towards the further corners doing tricks and complicated maneuvers where no one would get in the crosshairs.  There were young children yelling and screaming in either elation or frustration.  Couples with their bodies fitted together both on and off the ice, snuggling for warmth, bracing against one another--their own dances in the chaos.

 

Stiles was seated within the stadium seating that looked out at the ice and everyone on it.  She had just arrived and found herself settling within the crowd surrounding her.  Sitting alone would only draw more attention.  She was surrounded by teenagers grasping onto one another as they chase each other's tongues making noises that Stiles filtered out as she honed her senses to find Boyd and his sister.  

 

Boyd had never said what time he and Alicia had been to the ice rink but Stiles didn’t mind waiting.  It was one of her strengths despite growing up with ADHD.  Stiles was a chess player.  Chess required waiting, the weighing of pros and cons, observing your opponent, building and rebuilding a strategy, moves and countermoves.  Stiles was very good at chess and right now, this day, is a game of chess that she is determined to win.  

 

There’s finally a break in the crowd and Stiles could see young Vernon Boyd holding a young girl’s hand guiding her through her movements as she begins to skate.  They must have just arrived because Boyd is wearing a put out expression that eventually fades into a mask of grudging amusement as he watches his younger sister attempt to swirl around him while simultaneously holding her hand.  

 

Alicia is shorter than Boyd coming up to just below his shoulders.  She’s dressed exactly how Boyd described her with some pink/purple sweater that seemed a touch too long on her which covered her long blue jeans, her hair up with a puff of hair erupting at the end.  

 

Stiles settled back into her chair content to watch over her pack from the sidelines until she was needed.  She watched as Boyd and Alicia held hands, swirling in circles, dancing in avoidance of the other skaters, laughing raucously at something one of them said.  Stiles watched as Boyd smiled adoringly, lovingly at his little sister as she laughed.  Stiles watched Boyd be happy.

 

Over an hour passed before Boyd began to pull away from his sister towards the seats across from Stiles.  Stiles began to rise knowing that the moment when Alicia would disappear was approaching and that she had to be close.  

 

Stiles skirted around the skaters, slipping behind them and moving before they even realized someone was standing behind them.  She moved silently but quickly sticking to large groups so as not to be spotted.  Stiles saw Boyd sit down from the corner of her eye as she made her way to the group that was stationed right beside where Alicia was standing.  The group was chattering on about some inane high school drama, focused completely on themselves as they move their bodies just enough to stay warm.  

 

Then, Stiles sees a man approach Alicia.  She’s too far to hear what the man says to Alicia but suddenly the girl is taking his hand and they walk right passed where Stiles is standing making their way towards where the locker rooms are located.  Stiles follows them quickly, exiting on Boyd’s shouts for Alicia.  She wishes she could comfort Boyd and point out where Alicia was but Stiles had something else in mind.

 

Stiles followed slightly behind the pair as the man pulls Alicia into the men’s locker room.  He has a tight grip on Alicia’s arm and even though she is trying to pull away, he only tugs on her until she stumbles into him.  Stiles opens the door silently and sneaks into the room just behind them.  The man had thrown Alicia to the ground and was telling her to “shut the hell up, bitch”.  Alicia was crying and trying to crawl away but there didn’t seem to be anywhere to go.

 

“You’ll fetch a pretty price.  I can’t rough you up too badly besides your little punk brother is outside.  Need to get out fast.”

 

The man was talking to himself as he advanced upon Alicia.  Stiles didn’t want the man to touch Alicia again as she continued to cower and crawl away from the man.

 

“Excuse me, I’m a bit lost.  Can you help me?”  Naive and lost was always a good choice.

 

The man whirled towards Stiles caught off guard.  He eyed Stiles up and down as his right hand reached behind him, undoubtedly towards the weapon hidden at his back.  “Well, aren’t you pretty.”  His grin was lecherous and promised disgusting, painful events.  

 

Stiles ignored him for now and focused instead on Alicia as her eyes darted between Stiles and the man that had stopped between the two.  Her eyes were filling with hope which tugged at Stiles’ heart strings.  “Are you alright?  What happened?”

 

The man stepped in between Stiles and Alicia, blocking her view of the girl on the ground.  “She’s okay,” he dismissed, “She just fell down. Are you here alone?”

 

Stiles rolled her eyes internally but gave him the exact answer he wanted, “Yes.  I just got so turned around and then I heard you in here so I wanted to ask for some help.”

 

He acquiesced with a low grunt as his eyes continued to survey Stiles’ form like a hunk of meat.  She knew that the dark red jeans she was wearing were her old ripped jeans that clung to her curves while Derek’s jacket hung passed her fingertips and swamped her smaller form.  

 

“While I’m afraid that I can’t help you find your way out but you can help me out.”

 

“Oh,”  Stiles gushed enthusiastically, “how can I help you?”

 

The guy grinned as though he had already won and slowly brought his right hand forward with a gun clenched tight in it.  His trigger finger was resting along the side of the gun.   _He’s not ready to shoot either of us._  The thought bounced around in Stiles’ head as he started to talk, “I thought I was only gonna get this one,” he nodded his head in the direction of Alicia’s prone form, “but now I got you two.  Two for the price of one.  I wonder if Roger’ll let me keep you for a little bit.”  

 

Stiles raised her hands into the air feigning fear as he continued to point the gun in Stiles’ direction.  Stiles could hear Alicia’s hushed tears and she knew that the cops would be arriving soon to search the grounds for Alicia.  Stiles knew that she couldn’t be found here in this timeline.  There would be reports, too many people who could remember her, people asking questions and digging into her background.  Time to act.

 

Pasting a seductive smile on her face Stiles stepped towards the man with her hands still raised.  The man appeared confused for a moment but switched quickly into a self-satisfied smile.  “How about you tell me your name and maybe we can let the runt go and have some fun on our own?”

 

“My name’s Jake.  Mmmm.  I really want to take you up on your offer,” He lipped his lips as he looked her up and down once more, “but, I have orders to find someone who looks like her.”  He waved his left hand in the direction of Alicia.

 

“Well, Jake.  That’s too bad.”  Stiles suddenly dropped her smile and swept her right hand away from her body sending Jake and his weapon flying into the lockers on his right.  Stiles turned towards an astonished Alicia, “Run.  Your brother is on the ice.  Go!”  

 

Alicia scrambled up, ran behind Stiles and out the door shouting for Boyd.  Stiles returned her attention to Jake as he attempted to right himself.  His gun was lying close to Stiles but she bypassed it to get even closer to Jake.  He was shaking his head and when he caught sight of Stiles he began to scrambled backward on his hands trying to escape Stiles’ advancing form.

 

“What the hell are you?”

 

Stiles ignored his question and instead brought her hand in front of her stopping Jake’s frantic movements away from her.  He sat on the ground looking terrified as Stiles continued towards him until she knelt beside his prone form.  

 

Stiles could feel a dark smirk tugging up on her lips, twisting them into a macabre imitation of a playful grin.  She could feel her eyes begin to glow lighting up the space between them as her magic continued to press Jake down into the ground.  He continued to cower beneath her power, shrinking away from her even more as Stiles’ smirk grows and her eyes glow even more.  

 

“What I am doesn’t matter.  What does is that when the cops come, you spill your guts to them about everything.  The people you’re working for because obviously you’re not working alone, all of your little schemes, the names of all of the people you’ve taken, you’re going to give them every single detail that resides in that small, insignificant little head of yours.  You’re going to give them everything with nothing in return.  You will spill your guts tonight, or I will find you and do it for you.  Am I understood?”  Stiles didn’t have to see herself to know she looked scary as hell as her eyes pierced into him.  Stiles didn’t have to enhance her senses to know that Jake was terrified.  Didn’t have to be supernatural to know that he had pissed his pants.  She didn’t have to tap into anything supernatural to see that he was absolutely terrified of her and what exactly she would do if he didn’t follow her orders to the letter.

 

Stiles stroked a soft hand along the right side of his face feeling him attempt to flinch away from her touch, “Do you understand me, Jake?”  

 

“Yes!”  He shouted.  “Yes!  Yes!  I swear!”

 

“Good.”  Stiles smirked, she could hear the sirens outside, the loud noise filtering in along with orders being shouted.  “One last thing, Jake.”

 

Jake could do nothing but look at Stiles as she lifted up her right hand to punch him in the face rendering him unconscious.  Stiles released her magic and stood up. Pushing out her senses to locate where the officers and civilians were, Stiles could sense that four officers were making their way to Stiles’ position.  If she walked out of the room right now she would be seen and that cannot happen.  

 

Pulling her magic in, Stiles unzipped Derek’s jacket for maneuverability, closed her eyes and focused her magic inwards.  Stiles could feel the transformation take over, her clothing simply melding with her body as her limbs reshaped themselves becoming smaller and more agile.  The door to the locker room banged open as the four officers poured in with their guns drawn.  They quickly lowered them however looking between themselves as they saw their suspect on the ground unconscious and Stiles took their moment of confusion to use for her escape.  

 

She spread her wings and leapt into the air cawing loudly as she flew between over the heads of the officers and out into the lit pathway.  The emergency exit was pulled open suddenly as another officer attempted to walk inside the structure and Stiles dove towards the opening flying above the flailing officer’s body parts and out into the night.  

 

As Stiles made her escape she looked down to see Boyd and his sister Alicia wrapped in shock blankets being herded into the back of a police cruiser.  Boyd was clutching onto his sister as though he would never let her go ever again as Alicia cried into his chest.

 

Content with the fact that the siblings are safe and together, Stiles continued on her way.  She has one more stop to make.

* * *

 

From the street, the Lahey’s house looked quaint, quiet and normal but Stiles knew better.  She remembered every single little detail that Isaac had told her about living with his father.  The details were seared into her memory.  The memories from tonight though were front and center playing out right before her eyes.  She could easily pictured Isaac having a beer bottle thrown at him, him being dragged down the stairs that led to the basement, and thrown into a freezer, chained there for days until his asshole of a father was sober enough to let him out.

 

Stiles’ fury rose up but she held a tight grip on it knowing what was coming.  Stiles pulled her cellphone out of the right hand pocket of Derek’s jacket and dialed the station.

 

“Beacon Hills Sheriff Department.” A tired voice answered.

 

“Hello.  I’d like to report the abuse of a minor.  It’s in progress.”

 

The voice suddenly came alive, “I’m sorry did you just say that it’s currently in progress? What is the address? Where are you?  What’s your name?”

 

“Yes.  Isaac Lahey is being abused.  He’s locked in the freezer in his dad’s basement.  They live at 224 West Gate Road.  Hurry.”  Stiles hangs up without giving her name and stands before the Lahey’s home for a moment longer.  

 

The police sirens shattered the peaceful silence that had ensconced the neighborhood about four minutes later.  Stiles stepped back into the shadows, using her powers to bend the darkness around her body so as not to be seen.  Three cop cars along with the Sheriff’s car skid to a halt in front of the Lahey’s driveway with an ambulance following behind in short order.  Seven officers and the Sheriff meet on the porch and one of them kicks the door open with the others following.  The paramedics waiting on the porch with a gurney until they are given the all clear.  

 

Stiles can hear shouting from where she was standing.  A small crowd was gathering so Stiles dropped her magic and stepped up beside the gathering mass of neighbors content in how she would be overlooked as a simple ‘looky-loo’.  She stood still staring at the Lahey house waiting to see the outcome.

 

The paramedics must have heard the all clear because they were suddenly rushing into the house and two officers were escorting an irate but stumbling Coach Lahey outside his home in handcuffs.  Neither officers appeared to be handling him gently as they dragged his shouting carcass towards one of the cop cars.  Stiles watched with satisfaction as he was helped into the back and the door was closed on his red, shouting face.  

 

Spotting movement out of the corner of her eye, she saw Isaac being pulled out of the house stretched out on the gurney but surrounded by adults who were solely focused on his well being.  Stiles stood in the crowd and watched as he was loaded into the back of the ambulance and one of the officers jumped in the back beside him and took up holding Isaac’s hand.  The officer looked familiar but Stiles was too far to make a positive identification.  Instead she watched as the paramedics closed up the back, got in and made their way down the street.  She continued to watch until the ambulance was out of her sight.  

 

Stiles stood a little longer to watch the cruiser with Coach Lahey pull away and head the opposite direction away from the hospital and Isaac before she turned away from the scene and began to walk towards Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.  

 

Pulling out her cellphone once more, Stiles punched in Talia’s number.  Talia had left it scrawled on the note she had been planning on leaving for Stiles when she had dropped of some of Laura’s clothes earlier in the day.  The phone rang twice before a sleepy voice answered.

 

“Talia Hale.”

 

“Hello, Talia.  It’s Stiles.”

 

“Stiles! Is everything alright?”  Talia’s voice sounded more awake and concerned.  Stiles could hear the shuffling associated with someone climbing out of bed and searching for clothes.  

 

“Yes, everything if fine.  I do need some help though if you wouldn’t mind.  It has more to do with your career as a lawyer than as an alpha.  Can you meet me at Beacon Hills Memorial?”

 

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone but Stiles knew that Talia hadn’t hung up.  If Stiles had to guess, Talia was weighing the request before responding, “Of course.  I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

 

Stiles smiled. “Me too.  Meet you out front.”  

 

Stiles ended the call without waiting for a response, placed the phone back in her pocket, put her hands in her jacket pockets and continued her leisurely stroll towards B.H. Memorial.

* * *

 

Talia was standing outside Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital twenty minutes later waiting for Stiles’ arrival.  She had hoped that Stiles would provide more information but she had instead hung up on her which while inciting her wolf, made complete sense to Talia.  Talia and Deaton had betrayed her trust, they had struck a nerve which made Stiles lash out like a wounded animal.  

 

Talia grimaced at her own thoughts but couldn’t deny that they rang with truth.  She wondered what Stiles had been up to for the last six hours after she had stormed out of Deaton’s clinic.  It was almost one in the morning.  

Hearing approaching footsteps and recognizing the scent that she began to associate with Stiles, Talia turned to face the young girl.  She looked almost exactly how she remembered her just minus the glowing eyes and angry demeanor.  In fact she seemed to be somewhat settled which made Talia slightly wary.  

 

What had Stiles done to curb her anger?  Smelling the air, Talia could only scent that Stiles had been surrounded by many people at one point and that she was covered in a multitude of scents.  Not sensing pain or blood however, Talia refocused on the girl standing before her that was rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands stuffed in her over large leather jacket.

 

Stiles looked straight into Talia’s eyes.  Her wolf rebelled slightly at being challenged, no matter how minutely, but she squashed the reaction ruthlessly.  Stiles seemed to be searching Talia’s face.  Talia noted that this was a common occurrence.  She wondered at what Stiles was searching for each time she did it and what exactly she found but she refused to ask.  

 

“You still want me to trust you?”  

 

Talia’s breath halted.  She was confused at Stiles’ question.  Not because of the question itself but just for the simple fact that the question had passed Stiles’ lips--especially after what had just happened at Deaton’s clinic.  

 

She must have looked confused or waited too long to answer the question because Stiles simply continued to talk, “You expressed a hope that one day we would be able to share some of our secrets.  I’ve decided to share one piece of myself with you.”  

 

Talia nodded, still slightly unsure about where exactly to step.  She felt as though she was in a minefield and if she made one false step, Stiles would lead her astray and leave her to bleed on her own.  

 

“Make no mistake,” Stiles continued, “I still don’t trust you.  So we can consider this a test, if you will.”

 

Talia made no move to interrupt Stiles simply listening to what the young woman was saying.  When she realized Stiles was waiting for a response of some kind, Talia nodded her head to indicate that she was listening and that she was willing to continue doing so.  

 

“Good.  Let’s say that an anonymous individual called the police about an hour ago and told them that one of their private citizens was horribly abusing their son.  The boy was saved and brought here while the father was arrested.  Let’s say that another call was made by this anonymous caller to the home of Talia Hale, a respected attorney. And they took the time to tell her about this boy and asked her to look into it, to save the boy in any way she can.”  

 

Talia couldn’t tear her eyes away from Stiles as she moved from describing the anonymous caller to revealing what she knew about Isaac Lahey and how he had been systematically abused by his drunk father all culminating until tonight.  Talia continued to listen in horrified silence as Stiles even revealed some of the events of abuse that would have happened to Isaac if Stiles had not intervened tonight--the years of abuse the boy would suffer until high school when Stiles had begun to get to know him.  Stiles eventually explained away some events with a glossed over explanation that Isaac’s father was murdered and Isaac became better, grew stronger, without revealing any details as to the how.  Talia watched as Stiles appeared to forcibly cut herself off from continuing on about the tragic tale of Isaac Lahey.  

 

Taking a deep breath in time with Stiles, Talia began to sort through her feelings as she stood there in the cold in the early morning hours of Saturday in front of a hospital in front of a young woman out of time.  

 

Eventually coming to some conclusion, Talia looked at Stiles once more to see the young woman already staring at her.  “You said this was a test?  And how exactly would this test have anything to do with Isaac?”

 

Stiles didn’t answer but instead continued to watch Talia.  Thinking back over everything that Stiles had revealed about the young boy, something clicked into place.  “He was part of your pack, wasn’t he?”

 

Stiles nodded approvingly, “Yes, he was.  He was my baby beta. I’m sure Deaton already told you about the one memory he saw that Isaac was in?”

 

“No.”  Talia was quick to jump in.  “I told him not to tell me what he saw.  I only asked if you were a danger to myself or my pack.”

 

Stiles tilted her head, “And what did he say?”

 

Talia paused for a moment, “He said that you are dangerous.  But that you’re protective as well.  He said that he got the sense that you would only be dangerous to the people you considered a threat to you or your pack.”

 

“He’s right.  I’m the type of person that would do whatever it took to protect my pack--be it underhanded, violent, or morally questionable.  I _am_ dangerous.  I’m vindictive, manipulative and vicious as hell and I would burn down the world for the people I love.  Deaton’s right.  I am dangerous and I’m not going to apologize for it nor will I omit those pieces of myself to make anyone feel comfortable.”

 

Stiles’ eyes had begun to glow like beacons of fire as her voice began to rise, both undoubtedly infused with her power making her voice strong, her declaration sounding almost feral in its delivery.  It resounded in Talia’s mind like an Alpha command.  Dangerous.  Full of promise.  Unyielding.

 

Talia shook her head slightly to clear away the remaining vestiges of the alpha-like command and nodded her head in Stiles’ direction.  Dipping it lower than she had when Stiles had first acknowledged that she was part of the Hale pack.  Her head was bowed at the same level that an Alpha would bestow upon another Alpha.  Talia was no longer under any illusions.  Stiles may have stated that she was a High Mage that was bound to the Hale Pack as an emissary but Talia could feel it deep in her soul and so could her wolf-- despite being human, Stiles Stilinski was an Alpha.   

 

The proof was unmistakeable.  Incontrovertible, undeniable. While Talia had been stuck on her realization, Stiles’ eyes had returned to their normal color and the charge that had filled the air around them when Stiles had released her power had gone down to a manageable buzz that had the hairs on the back of Talia’s neck standing on end.  Without waiting for Talia’s response, Stiles voiced her question once more, “Do you still want me to trust you?”

 

“Yes.” Came Talia’s immediate response.

  
Stiles nodded decisively, “Good. Like I said, Isaac was my baby beta.  You wanted me to trust you?  Here’s your test.  Save Isaac Lahey.  Get him away from his father, adopt him into your own family.  Love him and protect him with all you have.  That’s your test.”


	6. Different Perspectives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving swiftly on the heels of the hospital visit, Talia and the pack must sort out how they feel about new additions to their pack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for being patient and kind. Thank you all for your comments and your kudos and for subscribing. I was FINALLY able to write this chapter in its entirety. I hope you all enjoy. Please let me know though if there are any errors or points that need clarification and I will totally revise. 
> 
> Also, casting information:
> 
> Laura Hale- Megan Ory
> 
> Special Shout-Out: Thank you so much Katycat612 for listening to my babble, helping me to focus, and being generally awesome:)
> 
> Enjoy!

It would not be accurate to say that Talia was the first to rise later that morning.  It would be more accurate to say that she had not been to sleep since she had returned from the hospital with Stiles.  Talia could hear the smalls snores and the rustles of sheets from her pack as they continued to sleep on, unaware of their Alpha’s restlessness.  The early morning sun was barely cresting above the mountains and the tall trees of the preserve.  Robert was still asleep beside her and would be for a couple more hours yet.  

Lying still on her back taking in the calm atmosphere surrounding her and her pack, Talia could tell that everyone was home and in varying degrees of sleep.  Everyone was safe and nothing was wrong.  She focused her senses specifically on Stiles’ room and found that despite the odd hour that Stiles and her had come home, Stiles seemed as though she was still sleeping but Talia could also detect her restlessness as she tossed and turned, the rustling of the sheets loud in the early morning quiet.  

Returning her attentions inward, Talia reflected back on the adventure that she had embarked upon a few hours previously.  At first, Talia was trepidatious and worried as to why Stiles would call her at such an odd hour and request her presence at the hospital.  After arriving, her trepidation was still present yet it was combined with both wariness and curiosity in equal measure.  Talia found that her emotions towards the situation had greatly shifted once Stiles had revealed the reason behind their presence at the hospital at such an odd hour.  

Instead of her feelings of wariness, Talia had felt her heart break for young Isaac Lahey as Stiles had unfolded the tragic story of his life up until the present moment.  She was horrified and disgusted about what had happened to Isaac and as she continued to listen to each word that fell from Stiles’ lips, Talia had felt a keen, longing swell within her to protect this young boy she had never met before.  

The largest revelations that arose however were that Isaac Lahey was a part of Stiles’ past and pack and that Stiles was an Alpha in human skin.  Those revelations had thrown Talia for a loop and to be honest, she was still processing the second one more so than the first.  Now that she was looking back at their short instances of contact and conversation, Talia doesn’t know how she could have missed that Stiles held the rank of Alpha.  It was present in the way she stood tall with her shoulders thrown back, head raised in a challenge, respectful of Talia’s position but still willing to challenge should she feel the need or feel challenged in her own right, the way she had reacted at Deaton’s office.  The clues were there but Talia had dismissed them.   


 

There was not much to do with having a second Alpha personality within the pack.  Talia could certainly accept that the two of them would clash on certain things but she also knew instinctively that Stiles, despite being human, would have no qualms pushing back against someone supernaturally stronger than her should she see herself in the right.  Talia didn’t have to know Stiles well to know that her spine was made of steel.  She had already seen a portion of it when Deaton had delved into her mind and memories.  Despite not being magically gifted, Talia could sense that the magic that Stiles had unleashed on Deaton was only a taste, a restrained effort to show that she was displeased.  She wished to never be on the receiving end of Stiles’ ire.  

Talia knew that at some point she would have to bring up the topic of Isaac Lahey to her pack.  She had agreed to take Stiles’ test in the parking lot but after she had seen the small, innocent boy lying still and battered on his large hospital bed, Talia had felt her wolf rise up so viscerally that she was forced to reign in her wolf lest she out the existence of werewolves.  Talia was not one for losing control but the sight of a small, defenseless boy so injured was enough to set Talia’s wolf on edge and howl for the blood of the animal who had put Isaac in his condition.  It was then that she realized that she wasn’t just going to protect Isaac because it would curry her favor with Stiles but also because she felt an overpowering need to do so herself.  

* * *

 

_ Stiles had accompanied Talia into the hospital after Talia agreed to her terms but the young woman had remained slightly behind her as they cut their path through the hospital.   _

_ A harried nurse with dark curly hair and a tan complexion had recognized Talia and upon her asking for Isaac’s information, she had begun leading Talia towards where Isaac was resting.   _

_ Outside his room sat a tired deputy with his clothes disheveled and his hair wild as though he had run his hands through it in frustration.  He looked up as the nurse along with Talia and Stiles in tow had come closer to the room housing Isaac Lahey.   _

_ Standing, he nodded his head towards the nurse, “Melissa,” and with a turn towards Talia a look of recognition sparked, “Talia?” _

_ Talia smiled as she immediately placed the face, “Hello John.  It’s good to see you again, although the circumstances could be better.” _

_ John Stilinski only huffed loudly with a silent nod in response.  He didn’t say anything to Stiles at all and when she thought about it, Talia had realized that neither their walking companion Melissa.   _

_ Apparently understanding where Talia’s thoughts were going, Stiles piped up, “They can’t see or hear me.  Only you know I’m here.  Timelines and such.”   _

_ Talia wasn’t facing Stiles but she could sense that the young woman was filled with a combination of sadness and longing which she snuffed out soon after. _

_ “So what brings you here Talia?” _

_ John’s voice pulled Talia’s attention back.  “I received a phone call earlier from someone who disclosed the current situation of Isaac Lahey and asked that I look into it and help in any way I could.  I must admit that hearing about his plight has stirred something in me and I would like to help in any way I can.” _

_ “An anonymous caller you said?” _

_ Talia nodded, “Yes.” _

_ John rubbed a hand over his face as he leaned back against the wall beside the door, “The precinct received a call earlier that said that Isaac Lahey was abused and locked in his father’s freezer in the basement and then they hung up without giving their name.  Laney who was working the front desk said that the caller sounded female but other than that, we have no idea who made the call.  No one was outside the Lahey’s home but once we got back outside a small crowd had gathered.  If the caller was there, we must have missed them.” _

_ Talia nodded silently in response.  Cocking her head towards Isaac’s room she asked quietly, “How is he?” _

_ John took in a deep breath that he released slowly, his shoulder slumping where he stood.  Talia noticed that Melissa stepped closer to John and placed her hand on his right shoulder in commissary.  Talia could scent that the two were close but that their closeness was derived from friendship rather than a romantic tie.   _

_ “I went out with the Sheriff on the call and we brought six other officers with us since we didn’t know what we were walking into.  We found Lahey passed out on the couch surrounded by empty beer bottles.  Six officers stayed to subdue him while the Sheriff and I went down to the basement.  Before we even made it there though we saw that there was shattered glass everywhere and some blood.  Some of the glass and blood made it pretty far-you could tell someone was dragged through it.  We followed the trail to the basement door and down the stairs.  There was small puddle of blood at the foot of the stairs that we had to step around to make our way to the freezer.”  John took a shuddering breath in, pausing in his retelling before continuing, “the damn thing was chained shut.  We found some bolt cutters down there and cut it open.  And god, the kid was hyperventilating and covered in blood.  What we could see of him was bruised and he cringed away from us when we opened the lid.  It took us a minute to calm him down and then he let me take his hand and help him out.  He couldn’t stand on his own for godsake.  The paramedics came down with their stretcher and I helped Isaac out of the freezer and onto the stretcher.  I even sat with him and held his hand during the ride here.  They wanted to sedate him but he was terrified so I stayed with him instead.   They finally got him to calm down just a little bit ago.” _

_ Melissa then jumped in, “The injuries he has now are scraped palms we dug glass out of, superficial lacerations on various points of his body, broken fingernails form trying to claw his way out of the freezer, a concussion from any number of the blows he received, a couple cracked ribs, and he’s suffering from malnourishment.” _

_ While Melissa and John appeared both relieved that they had someone to talk to and both extremely tired, Talia had trouble maintaining control.  Her wolf rebelled viciously at her lack of response to the abused boy.   _

_ “Does he have any family?”  She gritted out as civilly as possible. _

_ “No.  He told me that when we were finally able to calm him down.  His mother committed suicide shortly after the family received the news that their eldest son, Camden, was killed in action.” _

_ Melissa jumped in once more, “What’s going to happen to him John?  Please tell me he’s not going to be dumped into the foster system.  You know how much of a lottery that thing is.” _

_ He looked pained as he said, “I don’t know Melissa.” _

_ Talia’s wolf stood up at attention, “And I suppose that’s where I come in.”   _

_ John and Melissa both turned to face Talia.  Talia could still feel Stiles standing behind her observing the situation silently.   _

_ “There is a general placement policy that states that a child of abuse is allowed to be placed with other individuals if immediate family cannot be found.  It is policy 390 NAC 7-000 which states that “The Department will consider the placement resources and place the child: in the least restrictive, most family-like setting to meet the child’s needs, closest to the family to meet the child’s best interest and special needs, and in a setting that provides for continuity for the child in school, church, and other community relationships whenever possible while also considering the safety of the community.”” _

_ All Talia received were slightly blank stares as they attempted to work out the ‘english’ from all of the bureaucracy she just threw at them.  To make things easier she reiterated, “As a third party, if Isaac so chooses and the state allows, I can take temporary custody of Isaac and care for him until either the state makes their decision or I adopt him-again, on the state’s good will.” _

_ Melissa smiled warmly at Talia in response but Talia could see that a war was raging within John.  Talia could sense that while he was hopeful and pleased about Talia’s offer, he was also confused.   _

_ “No offense Talia but are you sure you want to take on another kid?  I know you have a pretty full house as it is.”   _

_ Talia could sense no malice from John’s question, only simple curiosity and fatherly worry.  “I would be happy to take Isaac in.”  Talia smiled, “Besides, despite having ‘a full house’ as you say, I honestly wouldn’t mind a few more children running around.” _

_ John shook his head fondly, laughed silently, and faced Melissa to share a smile.  “Oh.” John sparked, “I don’t think I introduced you.   Melissa McCall, Talia Hale.  Talia Hale, Melissa McCall.” _

_ Talia and Melissa shook hands and exchanged warm smiles towards one another as John resettled himself in his chair.   _

_ Melissa spoke up, “When do you think you’ll hear from the state?  And how soon do you think all of this will work out?” _

_ “I’m not sure how quickly everything will move but I’m assuming the hospital would like to keep Isaac for a few days for observation and such?” _

_ Melissa nodded in response. _

_ “Then I will talk with my family later, talk with Isaac if he will see me, and if everything goes well, get the ball rolling.” _

_ Both John and Melissa smelled relieved after Talia finished her statement.  Melissa finally broke from her position to begin heading into Isaac’s room undoubtedly to check on him.  Before Melissa made it all the way inside however, Talia spoke up, “Would it be okay if I saw him?” _

_ Melissa hesitated slightly before she nodded silently.  John nodded his head towards them and settled himself as comfortably as possible outside the room while Talia and Melissa made their way inside quietly with Stiles following behind them invisibly.   _

_ Seeing the young, small boy laid out on a bed quite a bit larger than his slight frame covered in cuts and bruises with large swathes of gauze around his head once again brought her wolf to the surface.  Rather than anger however, Talia felt a deep seated protective instinct arise within herself.  Talia knew then that she would protect the boy and love him but not because of some test that Stiles had devised but because already recognizes the young boy as one of her own.   _

* * *

 

Talia snapped out of her memory of the previous hours when she heard movement.  Laura, Derek and Cora were moving about, gathering their things in preparation for a new school day.  Focusing once again on Stiles’ room, Talia found that the room was devoid of either restless movements or a heartbeat.  Seeking out the slightly faster paced heartbeat, Talia located Stiles downstairs and when she expanded her senses even more, Talia could hear the beginnings of the coffee machine starting up, the schnick of a stovetop burner clicking on and cabinets being opened and closed.  

Robert stirred beside her pulling her thoughts and senses away from the kitchen where Stiles was apparently preparing breakfast.  

Talia watched amusedly as Robert blinked his eyes open sleepily multiple times in an attempt to clear his blurred vision.  When he finally focused enough to be counted as awake, he caught Talia’s eyes and while she watched, he pulled a funny face which had Talia laughing softly.  Using her laughter as a distraction, he shifted into her space to kiss her good morning.  Talia responded instantly and lovingly until she broke the kiss so that they both could get up for their respective days.  

Dressing at a regular pace in clothing she didn’t mind getting dirty, Talia began to head towards the kitchen, the sound of the shower starting ringing in her ears.  Walking into the kitchen, Talia saw that Stiles had re-donned Laura’s tank top and sweats and was standing at the counter that housed the coffee machine with a dark green mug clasped in her hands.

“Good morning, Talia.”

Imagining that her magic aided Stiles in her recognition of Talia’s presence, she decided to just roll with it.  

“Good morning to you as well Stiles.”

“The coffee is just about done.  I learned this spell--well actually, I created a spell that speeds up the creation of coffee.  I’m certainly close to perfecting instant coffee but whatever.  Near instant coffee--totally my doing.  And 3..2..1...Yes!”

Talia laughed as she watched Stiles throw a fist up in the air with her exclamation as the coffee maker announced a completed pot.  Stiles appeared almost joyful, youthful in her excitement over such a simple thing as a coffee spell.  

Knowing that the small things are the greatest comfort to some, Talia only shuffled forward to grasp her own mug, a red little number with the hand painted phrase in childlike handwriting, “My Mommas the Alpha”, and filled it to the brim.  She waited her turn to doctor her coffee and once they had both taken deep pulls from their mugs, the two moved without talking to complete breakfast.  Stiles moved to get the carton of eggs and placed them beside Talia as she took up position at the stove and Stiles repositioned herself at the mixing bowl full of pancake mix that she had started before Talia’s arrival downstairs.  

Both women worked quietly, moving with each other as though they had been doing so for years.  If one needed something that was closer to the other, they exchanged utensils and platters and food back and forth without vocal communication.  Breakfast was ready quickly and was already set up on the table by the time everyone had descended the stairs.  

Talia could hear Peter and Susan approaching the back door to join the family for breakfast before continuing on with their days.

Everyone sat down quickly and devoured the large breakfast of coffee, orange juice, milk, a teetering pile of pancakes, diced fruit, a platter full of bacon, and another full platter of eggs leaving little to nothing.  Before everyone broke to leave however, Talia stood which stopped everyone in their tracks.  

Straightening herself up, Talia declared, “There will be a pack meeting today after work and school ends.  I will see you all in the living room.”

Everyone nodded silently.  They nodded easily but Talia could sense that they were also confused.  

“Okay everyone, have a good day and I’ll see you later.  I love you all.”

Stiles began to clear the table minus all of the utensils that each individual had used since they all had already brought those dishes to the kitchen and dealt with them.  Talia hugged and scent marked everyone as they made their ways out of the front door and to their cars.  Kissing Robert goodbye, Talia watched until all of the cars disappeared down the long drive and then she closed the door.  Making her way back towards the table, Talia saw that it was already cleaned off.  Walking into the kitchen, she found Stiles’ arms immersed in soapy water.  

“I can do those Stiles.  You are a guest here.”

Stiles turned briefly to Talia, “I know I don’t have to.  I want to.  You’re going to be late for work.”

Frowning but acquiescing, Talia nodded, “Thank you.”

“No problem.”  Stiles smiled.

Moving from the kitchen back upstairs to her bedroom, Talia began to wonder just what her life had changed into.

* * *

 

Derek had trouble focusing at school for the entire day as his mom’s vague declaration of a pack meeting had started to create endless scenarios for whatever news his mom was waiting to call the whole pack together for.  

Derek was neither blind nor as dumb as Laura jokes he is because he had noticed the odd atmosphere between Stiles and his mom both before and during breakfast.  He noticed how the two had danced around one another in the kitchen when he had come down the stairs that morning.  

Stiles had remained quiet through the entirety of breakfast but she was also smiling calmly.  The change in behavior was odd but who was Derek to judge?  Something else that Derek had noticed was that while Stiles was wearing Laura’s clothes again, there seemed to be even more tattoos that appeared on her pale skin than were there the previous day.  

It seemed as though every time he looked at her, a new tattoo would appear.  Derek didn’t get a chance to look closer at them but from what he did see, one had appeared on the left side of her neck that looked like a bird with it’s wings spread but her hair was long and loose around her shoulders obscuring part of the black blob of ink so he couldn’t be too sure.  

Words and symbols had also started to gather along her arms, large circles and strange shapes that felt like magic even from a distance but also appeared to redirect Derek’s attention away from them making them take on a dream like quality as he attempted to recall them.  

Tattoos weren’t the only things though that had begun to appear on Stiles’ pale form however.  

 

Scars that appeared to be years old were finally becoming visible--it was as if both the tattoos and hidden scars were slowly rising out of her relatively unblemished flesh.   Derek could recall however that when he and his mom had first brought Stiles to their home that she was already covered in scars beneath her clothes.  

While those scars and tattoos were hidden beneath her clothes, there hadn’t been any on her arms or any visible skin.  He hadn’t gotten a large look at what the scars were from or how old they were or how many there were but he had gotten the impression from his mom’s slightly stricken face that there had to be a lot of damage that was hidden but he hadn’t asked and as more and more had appeared on Stiles’ skin over the course of breakfast, his inquiries had died in his throat.

Now, here he sat in his last class of the day both dreading and anticipating the fact that he was going to be heading home soon since basketball practice was cancelled for the day because Coach was sick.  

Derek had made it through his entire school day in a haze.  He couldn’t recall if anyone had talked to him or if his teachers had asked him any questions.  He was in his favorite class right now however so he forced himself to focus in on his English teacher, Mrs. Reynolds. 

Mrs Reynolds was always kind and supportive towards Derek.  Derek enjoyed school but often found it tedious--with the exception of course of Mrs. Reynolds’ sophomore English class.  The class itself was never boring but he found that he read faster and more fervently than the rest of his class which often dulled the excitement he had for the class as a whole.  

Mrs. Reynolds never held Derek’s ravenous appetite for literature against him. Instead, she encouraged him- she gave him lists of books that she had once read, she recommended books she thought he would enjoy, and after a time, he even began to quietly discuss his dream of becoming a successful author one day.  

  
  


The day he had opened up about this quiet passion of his and had shown Mrs. Reynolds samples of his work, was the day that Derek’s life had begun to shift quite dramatically.  

Mrs. Reynolds was the first and only person Derek had revealed this passion to and Mrs. Reynolds had smiled softly, fondly, at him when he had told her that.  Derek kept going back to Mrs. Reynolds to discuss the works he was writing, the many books the two had read, and to discuss Derek’s future.  Mrs. Reynolds remained the only teacher that didn’t write Derek off as a jock immediately.  Instead, she had _seen_ _him_ and Derek would never forget it.  

Mrs. Reynolds’ voice brought Derek out of his head once more, “Okay class, before we break for the day, I would like to remind you all that despite the fact a substitute will be here in my place since my maternity leave starts at the end of this week, that you must all remain respectful and continue to diligently complete and turn in your work.  Also, thank you all for the ‘congratulations’ and ‘well wishes’.  Have a great rest of your day and I’ll see you all tomorrow.”  

The bell rang a scant few seconds after Mrs. Reynolds wrapped up her announcement and everyone very quickly and noisily, packed up their belongings and shot out of the classroom and into the rioting mass of students attempting to make their way to their cars as quickly as possible.  

Derek shook his head knowing that no matter how quickly you got outside, you’d still be waiting for the parking lot to empty before you could leave.  He packed up his things carefully, in no rush, and once done, made his way towards the front of the classroom where Mrs. Reynolds was gathering her own things together at a slow pace.  

“Congratulations again, Mrs. Reynolds.  I hope you have a great day.  See you tomorrow.” Derek smiled.  

Mrs. Reynolds looked up at Derek from where she had previously had her head bent forward.  Derek and Mrs. Reynolds were almost the same height which she liked to laugh about during some of their meetings.  Her long dark hair was in a side braid that appeared to be exploding at the seams because stray hairs stuck out all over the place.  

Mrs. Reynolds reminded Derek of an older Laura.  They looked fairly similar with their dark hair and their dark eyes that promised laughter and mischief that was paired with their kind faces.  Where Laura was snarky, Mrs. Reynolds was soft however-one of the many ways that set them apart.  Derek had a feeling however that if the two were to ever become good friends, the world would never be the same.  

“Thank you, Derek,” She smiled in response. “I actually wanted to talk to you really quick if you have time?  It won’t take long, promise.”

“Sure.”

“The substitute will be coming in tomorrow to watch how I run class and to get familiarized with the classroom.  As my best student, I was wondering if it would be alright if I could introduce the two of you tomorrow after class and tell her that if she needs any help that you’re the one to go to?  Would that be alright?”

Derek doesn’t even need to consider it really, anything to help out the woman who has become a friend and mentor to him, “Of course.”

She smiled in relief, “Thank you so much Derek.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  Get home safe.”

Derek quirked a smile in response, “Yes ma’am.  You as well.”

Derek left the classroom and began to walk the now empty halls.  The sounds of lockers slamming shut and of loud voices echoing in the small space had stopped about halfway through Derek and Mrs. Reynolds’ talk.  Derek made his way unhurriedly to his locker to drop off his textbooks and retrieve any bits and bobs that he wanted or needed to take home and began his trek outside to where he could hear Laura’s camaro idling at the entrance of the school.

Clambering into the camaro, Derek couldn’t help but sink deeply into the cool black leather, close his eyes, and breathe in Laura’s calming scent of jasmine, fresh cut grass and cinnamon alongside Laura’s natural scent that filled the small, enclosed space.  Being close to his packmate and sister helped to clear the fog that Derek had been in while simultaneously releasing the tension he had unknowingly been harboring in his shoulders.  

“Hey baby bro.” 

Derek could hear the smirk in Laura’s voice and while the nickname usually annoyed him, he found it comforting instead.  In truth, the nickname didn’t actually annoy him--it filled him with a sense of belonging and love.  It was also embarrassing though when she called him that near his friends but that’s another thing entirely.  

“Hey Laura.”  Derek opened his eyes.

Laura shifted the camaro into drive and we settled in for our trek back home.  

“So,” Laura started, “this Stiles girl.  Dish.”

Derek definitely rolled his eyes this time.  “Laura you met her this morning at breakfast.” 

She shook her head, “No.  Not really.  Everyone says she showed up all bloody and crap two days ago and now she’s living with us.  What the hell?”  

Derek sighed, “Mom and I were running through the woods and we followed the scent of blood and Stiles was unconscious on top of a large tree trunk.  She was covered in blood and so we brought her back home.  Deaton looked over her, we found out she was from the future, waited for her to wake up, her and Deaton met and she revealed that they know each other--or at least  _ will _ know each other.  She had a panic attack after we said our names--and no, I don’t know why” Derek stated loudly before Laura could interrupt, “after that she passed out.  She then woke up the next night while you were at work, had dinner with us, snarked Peter which made him laugh and then her and mom went to Deaton’s office.”  Here, Derek paused suddenly unsure about what to say next..

Laura could sense Derek’s hesitation. “And?”  She prompted.

Derek readjusted in his seat, “I think something happened at Deaton’s.  Mom came home alone and she looked weird.  Her scent said she was angry and conflicted...Stiles wasn’t with her.  And then really early this morning mom got a phone call and she left for a couple hours only to come home later with Stiles.”

Laura ‘hmm-ed’ in response and continued to steer the car towards home.  Soon enough, the car hit the bumpy road that led up to the Hale House driveway about five minutes later.  Laura pulled the camaro up on the left side of the house to park.  Not wasting any time sitting in the car, the two instead pulled themselves and their belongings out of the car and began to walk towards the porch stairs and up into the house.  

They were the last two to arrive and so they quickly settled with Derek next to Cora on the sofa and Laura taking the blue armchair directly across from Stiles’ seated form.  Derek could see Laura sizing up Stiles even as the girl sat up straight in her chair and looked right back at Laura sizing her up as well.  He noticed that the two had locked eyes and the only thing that broke their continued stare was Talia clearing her throat.  

Every head swiveled towards her as she stood up once more.  

* * *

 

“As some of you are probably aware, early this morning I received a phone call and left the house.”  Talia waited for some nods before continuing, “Stiles called me and asked me to meet her at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital.  I was concerned especially since Stiles said that while she was fine that my skills as a lawyer were needed rather than as an Alpha.  I got to the hospital soon after and before going inside, Stiles revealed to me why we had met there.”

Talia delved into the tale that Stiles had told her about Isaac Lahey and how he was treated by his father along with the revelations she had received via Deputy John Stilinski and Melissa McCall without mentioning the revelations that Isaac was a member of Stiles’ pack, without mentioning that taking in Isaac was a test issued by Stiles, or that Stiles is a human Alpha.  She was able to sense the emotions fluctuate throughout the room as she continued to speak about her impromptu hospital visit.  

The mood changed swiftly from confusion to anger and disgust and finally to a deep sadness and a feeling of helplessness and unfocused anger.  Each individual had their eyes flashing with their claws slipping in and out of their hands.  Knowing that each emotion was reflected wholeheartedly by herself, she finally voiced the purpose for this meeting.  

“There is a policy that was specifically created for kids who come from an abusive household and have no other relatives.  It was created to minimize the amount of children that would be funneled into the black hole of the foster care system.”  Talia paused, unsure for a moment as she took in her pack as a whole.  

Each member was leaning forward slightly, Talia doesn’t think that they even knew they were doing it.  Their scents showed that they were very invested in what she was about to say and so taking the plunge, Talia continued, “the policy essentially states that if another individual or family as deemed fit and accepted by both the state and the child in question, they could become a temporary guardian--if not legal.  I’ve already looked into it and I have the paperwork but I wanted to run this by you all first because while I am the Alpha, we are all a pack so we must all agree to take this step together.”

Robert stood beside her silently wrapping his arm tight around her body in a show of solidarity.  Talia settled slightly against him and waited for the rest of her pack to respond.

Laura interrupted the ensuing silence, “I just have a question first.”

Talia nodded approvingly and then watched as Laura turned her attention to Stiles.  Stiles was sitting in her chair comfortably but with her back straight, staring right back at Laura awaiting her inquiry.

“You called my mom in the middle of the night for a complete stranger.  What does he mean to you?  And while I feel for the kid, why should we take in a stray human?”

Talia watched as Stiles continued to stare at Laura from her seated position.  She could sense that despite her wording, Laura felt the same way towards Isaac and his situation that Talia does, and is genuinely curious and wary as to what Stiles’ angle was.

Finally, Stiles nods slowly once.  “Talia guessed fairly quickly as to why I felt the need to step in and save Isaac.  I want to see if you can guess it as well.”

Laura stiffened slightly at the challenge but remained seated, staring at Stiles.  Tension rose in the small, enclosed space but no one reacted except to watch the two young women stare at one another.  

Talia recognized when it clicked for Laura and without speaking, Stiles nodded once towards her with a small smile gracing her lips.

“Care to inform the rest of us?”  Peter groused irritably.  

Stiles turns slightly in her seat to address Peter where he’s sitting on Cora’s other side.  Her smile slowly shifted into a smirk as she responded, “Honestly Peter, I thought you would be one of the first to solve this.  I would ask if things are slipping in your old age but c’est la vie and all that.  I’m assuming that you all can tell from my scent that I’m part of the Hale Pack?”

There were nods all around and Peter despite looking a bit more red in the face than usual, he nodded grudgingly as well.  

“Well then, Isaac Lahey was a member of my pack.  He told me once on his birthday, years ago, about his tenth birthday--which was yesterday--and how on this birthday he was beaten by his father and chained in a freezer for days until his drunkard father pulled him out and demanded he clean himself, his temporary prison, and the house up before disappearing for two days.  The abuse continued for years because either no one knew or no one cared.  He was beaten by his father until he was seventeen.  At that point, his father was finally murdered and my alpha turned him and adopted him.  Honestly I would have murdered the bastard myself but then Isaac would be a suspect so having his dad arrested in the middle of abusing his son was the next best thing.  Isaac is very dear to me.  I had a chance to save him and I took it.”

Silence was quickly becoming a response to anything Stiles said, Talia noticed.  She was unaware that Stiles had flirted with the idea of murdering Isaac’s father but she also was not surprised at the admission.  In fact, her wolf agreed wholeheartedly that Isaac’s father should be murdered but no one has to know that.  

Laura nodded acceptingly at Stiles’ response and shifted back in her chair content that her question had been answered.

Talia also knew however that Stiles wasn’t telling them everything.  As she had promised however, she would neither poke nor prod at Stiles’ past.  Instead she would wait for when Stiles decided to divulge her secrets.  

* * *

 

“What happened at Deaton’s?”  Derek interjected.  

Stiles and his mom snapped their heads towards Derek and while Stiles’ eyes were assessing, Talia’s were oddly devoid of emotion.  Derek wanted to take back the inquiry instantly but he also noticed that many other members of the pack were sitting up while pretending they weren’t listening very closely to the conversation so he expanded, “You both went to his clinic but mom came back alone and you didn’t come back for a few hours.”

Stiles nodded approvingly in Derek’s direction and was the first to speak, “Deaton did something he shouldn’t have.  I made sure he wouldn’t do it again.  No worries however--he’s relatively unharmed.  A good dose of fear doesn’t really count as harm in my book.”

Stiles said it with a smile and a dismissive wave of her hand.  Derek was perplexed by how blase she could be about something like threatening someone while smiling about it the next day as if it was a good memory.  He was also confused as to how she seemed to fit into the pack in a way but how she also stood apart from them.  It confused him even more that he was drawn to her for some reason.  She was a confusing enigma, a mystery that Derek was determined to solve--he hated mysteries.  

* * *

 

Talia watched the exchange quietly noting the shifting that each person in the room makes.  Noting the way each individual’s scent changed as more was revealed.  No one seemed particularly worried about what could have happened to Deaton and no one appeared particularly put off by what Stiles didn’t say.  

Peter even shifted closer as though he was excited by this new aspect of Stiles’ personality--even after Stiles had just snarked him.  Peter loves games and Talia had a feeling that Peter may have met his match in Stiles.

Refocusing on the reason that she had originally called this meeting for, Talia asks her pack and family members for their votes.  As Talia had suspected, the pack unanimously voted ‘yes’.  With their response  hanging in the air, Talia pulled out the paperwork she had created earlier in the day and with Robert beside her, signed her name at the bottom.  

Talia ended the meeting shortly after and everyone drifted off to do whatever they needed to.  She knew that Peter and Susan had left to return to their home and would be back in a few hours for dinner, Derek and Laura moved upstairs with their backpacks to begin their homework, Cora changed seats so as to see the television better, Robert moved into the office to begin writing his articles, and Stiles moved into the kitchen.  

Talia followed Stiles into the kitchen and watched as the young woman raided the refrigerator in search of something.  Without looking up once again, Stiles asked if Talia wanted homemade lasagna with salad for dinner.   With a positive response, Talia moved forward to offer assistance and the two settled once again into a quiet companionship in the kitchen as they moved about their tasks. 

Never having made lasagna from scratch, Talia watched and listened to Stiles as she explained what to do.  Other than instructions and questions being exchanged, the two remained in a comfortable silence until Stiles broke it.

“Thank you.”

  
Talia paused briefly in her actions but without knowing what was appropriate to say in response, Talia smiled warmly at Stiles and the two returned once more to their peaceful ministrations.    



	7. I Found the Word For Winning At Tug-of-War, I Found It On My Bloody Knees With My Burned Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations are like old wounds, they fester and they hurt and sometimes, they knock the breath right out of you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you are all well. I have a query of my own, I've been considering posting this story with Stiles as a male as well. It's something I had considered before posting this version. I just wanted to see if anyone would be interested? The stories would be exactly the same just with a male Stiles. Thank you! I hope you all enjoy this update and please let me know if there are any errors!
> 
> P.S. The title is actually from a quote I found:  
> "Is there a word for the moment you win tug-of-war? When the weight gives and all that extra rope comes hurtling towards you? How, even though you've won, you still end up with muddy knees and burns on your hands. Is there a word for that? I wish there was." - Sarah Kay, "No Matter the Wreckage"

Talia made her way through the bustling sheriff’s station dodging officers that were coming and going, the bland brown deputy uniforms being interspersed with random dark blue suits.  Talia had never seen the station so busy, nor had she seen the multiple suit clad strangers before.  

 

Making her way from the front to Deputy Stilinski’s desk just outside of the Sheriff’s office, Talia approached the weary man who was hunched over his desk seemingly staring at the mountain of paperwork that rested just beneath his bowed head.  

 

Speaking loudly enough to draw the man’s attention but low enough so as to not cause a scene, Talia called the deputy’s name which caused the man to shoot up in his chair.  His hair was in every direction, his uniform disheveled, and eyes tired but alert.  

 

Noticing who had called his name, the man relaxed into his chair, slumping slightly.  “Talia.” He breathed, “What can I do to help you today?”

 

Talia glanced around from her position at John’s desk to see people scurrying to and fro.  She had never seen the station in such upheaval.  Voicing her confusion at the bustling atmosphere to John, she was rewarded with the man shaking his head incredulously.  

 

“You remember when we got the call at the Lahey’s?”

 

Talia nodded silently wondering where John’s question was leading to.

 

“Well,” He continued, “that same night, we got an emergency call about a missing girl at the old ice rink.  An Alicia Boyd had disappeared-- there one second and gone the next.  She was there with her ten year old brother.  According to witnesses, upon noticing his sister wasn’t there, the brother immediately ran onto the ice screaming his sister’s name.  One of the witnesses dialed 911 and officers were dispatched.  They got there just in time to see Alicia run, crying onto the ice and into her brother’s arms.  When asked where she was, she said the boy’s changing rooms and when the officers got there, they found a man there, unconscious on the ground.  When we got Alicia to calm down, we asked her what happened.  She said the man had grabbed her and threatened to hurt her brother if she didn’t stay quiet and follow him.  He took her to the locker room and threw her to the ground.  She said that suddenly a woman was there and that she saved her by doing magic and telling her to run.  There was no woman there though by the time officers arrived.”

 

Talia’s eyes had widened slightly when John mentioned a woman doing magic but she kept her surprise masked only nodding towards John in an unspoken prompt to continue his tale.  

 

“Wanna know the even crazier part? When the guy regained consciousness he said he wanted to confess.  He started spilling his guts immediately.  He told us his name, Jake Gallows, he gave up business contacts, he gave us names that are in the missing person’s database.  He gave us breaks in cases that are open all over the country.  We had to call in the suits.  They’re taking the case off our hands--jurisdiction, crimes crossing state lines, missing children, children and sex trafficking rings.  I mean, Jesus, you have to see just how big this operation is.  The guy didn’t even ask for a deal, Talia.  He just started talking and he didn’t stop.  It was like he couldn’t get all of the information out fast enough.”

 

That caught Talia’s attention.  “He didn’t ask for a deal?  No immunity?  Protection?”

 

“No.” John breathed out, slumping even more into his chair with a perplexed expression twisting his features.

 

“What did he say when you guys asked him why he was willingly giving up this information without a trade?”

 

John looked at Talia with an unreadable expression, “He said that the woman was going to kill him if he didn’t.”

 

A sudden commotion from across the room in the direction of the cells snapped both John and Talia’s attention away from their previous conversation.  There was a man, tall and pale, with his hands seemingly handcuffed behind his back being led out into the center of the station.  He had short brown hair and his blue eyes were wild as he attempted to slip from the grip of the suited men holding him by his biceps.  Talia found it odd however that instead of trying to escape towards the doorway the man was instead trying to pull away from the exit and return to the cells.  

 

“No!  Please!”  Came the sudden cries which were loud enough to draw officers from the front of the station.  “She’ll kill me!”

 

His words were loud and piercing.  Stepping forward suddenly, Talia pinned the struggling man with a look which caused him to freeze in his steps.  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” She nodded respectfully towards the suit clad men before facing the handcuffed man, “You said someone threatened you.  Who?  Do you want protection?”

 

The man, Jake, began to shake his head rapidly, his eyes going even larger.  “No!  She said I had to tell you everything and that I couldn’t ask for anything in return or she’d spill my guts for me!  She’ll kill me, I know it!”

“What did this woman look like?  Can you describe her?”  Talia had a growing suspicion on just who this Jake man had come across but she wanted it to be confirmed.  

 

Jake paused for a moment, considering.  “I don’t know her name or nothin’ but she was tall and hot.  Wearing a leather jacket and red jeans, long brown hair, and…”

 

“And?”  Talia pressed.

 

“Crazy colored eyes that glowed gold.  She threw me across the room and pinned me to the floor without even touching me!”

 

One of the suited men finally jumped in, “Right, yeah.  We’ll get right on finding Sabrina.”  He turned towards his partner, “This one’s trying for the insanity defense, Landon.”

 

The other officer, Landon, apparently, just huffed and rolled his eyes.  He shook his head briefly and then compelled a protesting Jake the rest of the way towards the door.  

 

The door to the Sheriff’s station closed on the last of Jake’s shouted pleas.  The room was silent for a moment before everyone began to return to their normal duties.  

 

Turning once more towards John’s desk, Talia saw him slouched in his chair once again.  “What do you think of his story?”  

 

John shook his head before answering, “There were some reports that there was a girl who fit that description, or at least portions of that description but we didn’t find her at the ice rink at all.  Alicia said there was a woman who saved her but she refused to describe her.”

 

“She’s protecting her.”

 

John nodded silently.  “Why wouldn’t she?  Girl saved her life.”

 

There was a short pause before John broke the companionable silence, “What’d you need?  I don’t think we ever got around to that before all of this happened?”

 

Shaking herself slightly she responded, “Yes.  I submitted papers to, at least temporarily, take custody of Isaac Lahey.  I was wondering if you would mind acting as a witness?  Both as a witness to my character and as one who was there when Isaac was found?”

 

Talia didn’t even have to finish her request before John was nodding, “Of course.  I’d be happy to, Talia.”

* * *

 

“Stiles.” A voice rasped from out of nowhere.  

 

“Sti-les.”

 

“Stiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiles.”

 

Turning in a circle, Stiles could see nothing but overwhelming, all encompassing darkness around her.  The repetition of her name getting louder and sounding closer every time.  Turning away from the approaching noise, Stiles found herself standing within a locker staring out of the four front slots.

 

Her pulse began to skyrocket as she recognized her surroundings, as she realized just where she was yet again.  Stiles could see figures moving outside.  Their forms were solid but covered in shadow obscuring their features.  They were all moving around slowly, stepping towards the locker that Stiles was shoved in at a meandering pace.  

 

Closing her eyes wouldn’t work to dispel the haunting apparitions before her so she followed the script, exactly how she had the first time.  Shoving her way towards the opening of the locker, Stiles suddenly stumbled out nearly careening into the open space just in front of her.  When she looked up to see the figures that had been approaching her, she realized that the hallway was now empty--just like it was the last time.  

 

Stiles knew exactly where she had to go next and despite dreading the journey, fearing it even, she took sure steps on her bare feet until she came to the empty classroom with the door hanging invitingly open.  

 

The flooring was just as cracked and upheaved as she remembered, the Nemeton stump still erupting out of the center of the room which had sent the desks and chairs clattering into the far corners of the otherwise empty classroom.  

 

Stiles began to approach the structure once more but instead of making it to the stump undeterred, Stiles began to see memories arise in wisps of smoke before her eyes.  The sounds of voices and loud bangs and screams assailing her as she continued to push ahead.  

 

She could see herself killing Kira in the rain.  

 

She saw Derek carrying Erica’s body from deep inside the bank the Alpha Pack had hidden in and crying, shaken, Derek holding onto a dead Boyd while the two were on their knees in a pool of water that slowly bled red.

 

She saw Allison being impaled by a sword and dropped as though she were nothing but trash while the Nogitsune wearing her face smirked at the death and chaos and pain and strife that they had orchestrated so perfectly.

 

She saw her dad drinking and swinging his bottle around declaring that Stiles had killed her mother and that she was the reason all her friends have started to die around her.

 

The images kept coming and the sounds of voices were rising louder and louder, the sounds a cacophony dropped upon her ears making them bleed and ring.  

 

“ _Liam is dead_.”  

 

Lydia’s scream and the howls of the pack echo sharply.  

 

“ _Melissa, you have to listen to me.  You can’t--_ ”

 

“ _Isaac, please, you have to go, now_.”

 

A barrage of gunfire.

 

“ _Braeden, take them and run.  Run as far as you can and_ **_never_ ** _look back_.”

 

“ _Oh, and now we’re supposed to trust you?  You’re a murderer, Stiles.  How many people have you killed?  We know the body count is at least up to two.  Maybe even three.  How many more?  How many?_ ”  Scott’s enraged roar had the questions he was hurtling at her impale themselves invisibly into her chest, stopping her breath cold in her lungs, choking her.

 

Shaking herself hard from the remembered voices, Stiles found herself finally stopped before the stump and without pause, she thrust her hand into the center and even embraced the inevitable as vines shot out to wrap around her wrist.

 

***

Stiles awoke gasping, her hands scrambling for air while her body attempted to maintain its position sitting up in her bed.

 

“Hey, hey, Stiles.  It’s okay.  I’ve got you.”  A familiar voice soothed.  

 

Stiles could feel hands reaching around her, encircling her shaking form and caressing her back and hair in an attempt to calm her.  

 

Stiles turned and faced Lydia who was sitting beside her attempting to comfort her.  Tears prickled at Stiles’ eyes making them warm.  She couldn’t help it when they started to spill down her cheeks even as Lydia cooed softly and wiped them away with her thumb.  

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart, just breathe.”

 

“Lydia.”  Stiles’ voice was rough and raspy and barely a sound as she caught her breath but the word was unmistakable as it continued to hang in the silent air.  

 

“Yes.  Hello, Stiles.  You know what’s happening, right?”

 

Stiles could only nod, she knew what was happening.  She was reliving her nightmares.  Nightmares within nightmares.  

 

“Good,” Lydia nodded to herself, “at least I don’t have to break that to you.”

 

“I know what happens next.  So how long are we going to sit here before the door opens?”

 

Stiles received no answer to her query so she turned to face Lydia’s form as she sat beside her but when her eyes fell upon Lydia, Stiles backpedaled and scrambled off of the bed until she was standing beside it staring with horror at her friend.  

 

Lydia’s face was covered in tears and her nose and mouth had blood pouring out of them, combining with the tears that fell in heavy rivulets soaking her clothes and Stiles’ bed sheets.  

 

Her mouth was open in a silent scream, the ligaments and veins in her throat stark against her pale flesh while her hands were reaching out towards Stiles, grasping at the air between them.

 

Stiles saw dark swathes of blood spread over Lydia’s form, claw marks slicing their way invisibly through her clothes and the previously unblemished skin beneath.  There were claw marks covering her entire torso allowing blood to slip and slide until they ran down her skin, painting the white skin red.  

 

Lydia’s silent scream appeared to have tapered off because now instead of the silence from her scream, Stiles now heard Lydia’s wet, gasping breaths.

 

“St-Stiles…”

 

Stiles looked up in horrified fascination still seeing blood pouring from Lydia’s mouth while her eyes were laser focused on Stiles’ unmoving form.  

 

“Stiles, why’d I have to die?”

 

The question hit Stiles sharply.  “I’ve been asking that too, Lydia.”

 

“It was supposed to be you.”

 

Stiles could do nothing but nod silently, accepting what she had known all along.

 

“How many of us were supposed to die for you, Stiles?  How many of us were supposed to lay down our lives for you?”

 

Stiles shook her head because she had no answers to Lydia’s questions.  

 

Suddenly slick hands grabbed onto Stiles’ arms in a death grip.  Looking up, Lydia’s face was right in front of Stiles’.  Her gasps were loud and shuddering, the blood still pouring down her face and from her wounds but her grip was steady, bruising.

 

“Why did I have to die?  Why did I have to watch everyone die?  Why did I have to watch Malia _die_ right in front of me? Where were you?  Didn’t you hear me _screaming_ ?  Didn’t you feel me _dying_?”

 

Lydia’s hands were turning into talons as her sharp, broken nails pierced Stiles’ flesh mixing their blood upon Stiles’ skin.  Her grip tightening as every one of her questions went unanswered, with every silence in response to her queries.  

 

“STILES.”  Lydia’s banshee scream took Stiles’ legs right out from under her sending her crashing to the floor.  Her knees made a large cracking noise as they slammed into the flooring.  Lydia’s body remained standing, her form slightly hunched over Stiles’.  Her hands still gripping Stiles’ arms tightly.  

 

Stiles’ ears were ringing, blood starting to flow out of them and down her face, the warmth a shock against her cold skin.  Lydia’s shriek of Stiles’ name still pulsing, still ongoing, ricocheting through the night, reverberating in Stiles’ skull like a siren.  Stiles tried to cover her ears with her hands but found her mobility limited by Lydia’s vice-like grip.  Stiles couldn’t blot out the noise, the shrill shrieking that haunted her memories and was currently flaying open her senses leaving her a raw, shaking mess.  

 

Unable to hear anything other than her name, Stiles didn’t hear the door suddenly creak open but she was able to see it out of the corner of her eye.  Seeing her escape, Stiles began to scramble away from Lydia’s form but the redhead was tenacious in her grip on Stiles.  

 

Stiles pulled and struggled against Lydia’s grip dragging herself across the floor of her room towards the open door.  Lydia clung on however ensuring that wherever Stiles moved, Lydia inevitably followed.  Lydia suddenly stopped thrashing and her claws slipped free from Stiles’ flesh.  

 

Confused but determined to keep moving now that she was released, Stiles shuffled backwards on her palms, dragging the rest of her body.  Keeping her eyes on Lydia to make sure that she didn’t suddenly pounce upon Stiles to drag her back into her bloody embrace.  

 

Stiles finally made it to the doorway and using her hands to grip the door behind her, she slowly stood, still facing her room.  She saw Lydia begin grasping her wounds, falling once more to the floor, sprawled with blood pooling beneath her unmoving form.  Lydia was gasping, tears sliding down her face while her right palm grasped ineffectually at the wounds across her abdomen.  

 

Wishing to move on but frozen once more by horrified fascination, Stiles continued to watch on as her friend slowly succumbed to her death.  When Lydia’s rasping breaths finally fell silent and the movement of her chest halted, Stiles recognized that the position that Lydia had fallen in resembled perfectly how Stiles and what was left of her pack had found her too late.  

 

Her red hair was splayed across the floor, the ends tangled and becoming drenched in blood as the pool beneath her grew.  Her pale flesh was sickly, a sickly pale that was smeared in blood and covered in cuts and scrapes.  Her right hand was lying on her abdomen as though she had tried to staunch the bleeding while her left hand was outstretched towards where Malia’s fallen form was lying.  Lydia’s face was gazing up, unseeing, at the stars above her, her heart and breath silent.  

 

Stiles violently shook herself from her dazed state and backed up, stumbling backwards out the door into whatever fresh hell was next awaiting her.  

 

***

Something crunched underneath Stiles’ bare feet.  Looking down, Stiles saw dried leaves and scattered twigs.  Stiles lifted her head and saw what lay before her--the Nemeton once again.  

 

Walking forward, Stiles came closer and finally the flood lights came on, momentarily blinding her despite Stiles knowing that they were already there.  

 

Blinking away the sudden blindness, Stiles refocused her attentions upon the Nemeton determined that all she had to do was scream herself awake to land in the next portion of her twisted trip down memory road.  

 

Before she opened her mouth however, she caught sight of the new addition to her dreamscape.  Instead of just the field with the Nemeton and the surrounding floodlights, Stiles saw that there were grave markers interspersed around the Nemeton’s gnarled, twisted roots.  

 

There were too many to count, the names obscured heavily from where Stiles was standing.  They were blocking Stiles’ path and she knew that she couldn’t leave this phase of the nightmare until she faced whatever horrors this new reality offered.  

 

Straightening her shoulders, Stiles stepped towards the marble blocks.  A cold breeze blew towards Stiles sending a chill up her spine causing her to hunch inwards, shaking.  Not allowing the sudden cold to dissuade her, Stiles continued her journey forward.  The first grave she came from availing itself with the name plastered across the top in large block letters, ensuring that Stiles saw it clearly.  

 

ERICA REYES

 

Stiles stopped to stare silently at the gravestone and then continued onwards, repeating the cycle at every slab of marble she came across.

 

VERNON BOYD

 

ALLISON ARGENT

 

AIDEN BRODERICK

 

LIAM DUNBAR

 

KIRA YUKIMURA

 

MALIA TATE

 

LYDIA MARTIN

 

CORA HALE

 

JOHN STILINSKI

 

CLAUDIA STILINSKI

 

PETER HALE

 

Stiles stopped briefly to glare at the stone with Peter’s name carved upon its surface.  She could not bring herself to forgive nor forget what he had put her through but she could sympathize slightly since she had spent some time with the Peter from the past.  She also knew what it was like to lose everything but what he had done to her and her pack was unforgivable--only if she was now the only one to remember it all.  

 

Stiles continued her journey forward.

 

CHRIS ARGENT

 

ISAAC LAHEY

 

DEREK HALE

 

JACKSON WHITTEMORE

 

ALAN DEATON

 

JORDAN PARRISH

 

Despite knowing there were more slabs awaiting her perusal, Stiles couldn’t help but stop in her tracks as the names began to shift from the dead to the names that she could not bear to see chiseled into stone.   _They were supposed to be safe_.

 

DANNY MAHEALANI

 

ETHAN BRODERICK

 

MELISSA MCCALL

 

MASON HEWITT

 

Stiles had to turn away from the gravestones despite knowing that even more were awaiting her.  She knew instinctively that at least one of the grave markers out there would be marked with the name Tara Graeme.  She also knew that the many seemingly faceless graves would bear the names of every single one of the Nogitsune’s victims etched deeply into their stone surfaces.  

 

Stiles had researched the massacres that the Nogitsune had masterminded.  She had learned the names of every single victim both living and not.  Stiles knew every victim who died and was injured in the bomb blast at the sheriff’s station and the oni attack that also occurred there.  She knew the names of the victims from the hospital massacre.  

 

Stiles knew that even the graves of the Hale family would be out there, their names interspersed throughout--names of the family members she had met recently and the names of the ones she hadn’t yet.  

 

She even knew that the mechanic she had watched die when Jackson was the Kanima was going to be out there somewhere in that floating sea of marble and stone.  She didn’t want to see all the names of the dead that were awaiting her.

 

Turning away from the pathway of stones, Stiles strode determinedly towards the Nemeton where it rested seemingly innocuously in the center of it’s grove.  Stiles footsteps got faster as the ground beneath her feet began to shift, the world appearing to tilt.  Stiles felt herself stumbling towards the stump while something else was attempting to sway her in another direction.  

 

The ground wasn’t lifted nor was anything like roots or the hands of the dead reaching up towards Stiles in an attempt to drag her down which Stiles was thankful for.  Instead, the ground was sloping, tilting, leading Stiles both closer to her target but also making her wary because if her dream wanted her to go somewhere in particular, then she had just cause to be worried as to where exactly she was being led.

 

As suddenly as the ground had started to shift, the movements beneath her feet suddenly stilled.  Stiles found herself off balance as she readjusted to the now still ground, her form shifting side to side restlessly.  

 

Before Stiles and just in front of the Nemeton, was a single slab of stone.  The side that contained the name upon its surface wasn’t facing towards Stiles.  Taking a steadying breath, Stiles stepped around the stone only to stop cold at what she saw.  

 

There was a disconnect between what Stiles was seeing and her comprehension of what exactly was laid out before her eyes.  She could not accept the sight in front of her despite the tangible proof resting in cold, unfeeling stone blocking her path, ensuring that her attention was on it and it alone.  

 

Unbeknownst to Stiles, her right hand had slithered down until it rested on her right thigh, digging into the flesh in a pattern that slowly had blood seeping from it due to her ministrations.

 

The stone before her read:

 

Talia Hale

 

A mother

 

Both in life and in death

 

What truly made Stiles pause and the breath freeze in her chest was the fact that on the same gravestone there was a second death date just below the engraving.  Stiles knew exactly what that meant.  She could feel the world tilting once more but this time the feeling was inside of Stiles rather than surrounding her.

 

Stiles breaths rattled in her chest, gasps were passing between her lips.  She was shaking, her left hand clenched in a fist while her right continued to dig into her right thigh.  

 

Talia Hale, Derek’s mother, was pregnant when she died.   _Oh gods_ , Stiles’ thoughts were escaping her, ricocheting around in her head.  No one ever knew.  Derek had admitted to Stiles that he never could bring himself to visit their graves, feeling undeserving.  He hadn’t even been present for the funerals because Laura and him had decided to flee town just as soon as Laura had settled the affairs she could and was granted legal custody over Derek.

 

No one had known that Talia Hale was pregnant.  There had been another innocent life lost in the fire.  There had been another innocent person murdered by Kate Argent.  Stiles was still gasping in heaving breaths and she was still shaking but now instead of it being in shock, she was instead shaking with suppressed rage.  

 

Stiles had long ago stopped wondering if she would ever stop getting progressively angrier with Kate Argent as more details of what she had done continued to unfold.  

 

Having had enough of this game, of this revelation, of this graveyard, of this reminder that she killed everyone she loved in one form or another, Stiles finally opened her mouth and screamed, “WAKE UP!”

 

***

 

Stiles threw herself into waking, sitting up quickly in her bed.  She looked around the room looking for the sunlight that was supposed to be streaming into the room and for the speedy appearance of her father telling her to get to school but neither happened.

 

Instead, the room was still bathed in darkness, the sun having not yet risen but a storm clashed outside her window.  Stiles could hear the rain cascading, pounding on the roof and against her window.  Looking towards her window, Stiles froze once more.  

 

Standing there staring at Stiles was Jackson.  He looked put together and whole--the opposite of the last time she had seen him, bloody and broken.  

 

“Hello, Stiles.” He smiled softly at her.

 

Stiles’ heart squeezed tightly at her friend’s warm greeting but she was still wary because her dream with Lydia had started out similarly.  Pushing past the lump in her throat, she asked if his visit was going to mirror hers.  

 

Jackson shook his head and looked at her with a forlorn, melancholic expression upon his face, his lips quirked in a small, sad smile.  

 

“No, Stiles.  I think you’ve been hurt enough.”

 

“You’d be the only one.”  Stiles couldn’t have stopped the remark escaping even if she had tried.

 

Jackson did smile a little at that, “There you are.”

 

Rolling her eyes, Stiles gestured towards Jackson silently encouraging him to ‘go on’.  

 

“You already know what this is, Stiles.  What do I need to explain?”

 

“Why it’s you and why you aren’t here to hurt me.  That’s what this is all for, right?  My subconscious or the Nemeton or literally anything else that decided that it had to go after us all, deciding to fuck with me?  Deciding to torture me?”

 

Over the course of Stiles’ tirade, Jackson had moved closer to where Stiles was sitting perched upon her bed, settling beside her on her right side.  He took Stiles’ hand in his and held it tightly.  He sat beside her until Stiles finally turned towards him slowly.  

 

Looking into her eyes, Jackson once more said that no, he wasn’t interested in tormenting her because she had already been through enough.  

 

Stiles still didn’t believe him but she couldn’t squash that bubble of hope that had started to arise within her chest at the prospect of seeing her best friend again--especially without the added horror of seeing him die once more or hearing him condemn her like so many of the others had.  

 

“Then why are you here?”  Stiles’ voice was soft and quiet, something it hadn’t been in quite some time.

 

Jackson’s face was deeply saddened as he gazed at Stiles’, “I’m here because my best friend is in pain.”

 

“I’ve been in pain before, Jax.  This is nothing.”

 

Jackson shook his head sharply, “No.  Don’t say this is ‘nothing’, Stiles.  I am right here and I _know_ you.  You are in unimaginable pain.  You’ve gone through so much and I know you’re tired.”

 

“So what if I am, Jackson?  Me being in pain is nothing new.  Didn’t think you being dead would include a memory wipe.”

 

“I’m not even going to respond to that.  I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work.  I’m not here to hurt you, Stiles.”

 

“Why not?”  Stiles’ scream was loud in the quiet of the room but it rivaled the storm raging outside.

 

Jackson didn’t appear to be phased by the scream instead he was watching Stiles as she watched him in return.  “You’re in pain Stiles.  Let me help you.   _Please_.”  

 

Ignoring her instincts screaming at her to remain vigilant, Stiles gave in.  Jackson was right, Stiles was tired--still is.  Nodding her head silently towards Jackson, she allows him to manhandle her until she was leaning against him with his left arm around her giving her a brief hug before he suddenly stood.  He assured her that he would be right back as he walked across the room and out the door.  

 

Not knowing what to do, Stiles remained seated where Jackson had maneuvered her and sat there waiting for him to come back.  It didn’t take him long and when he returned, she saw he was carrying her small first aid kit.  Settling on his knees before her, he opened the kit pulling out antiseptic wipes and gauze.  

 

He gently grabbed hold of Stiles’ right leg and stretched it out towards him.  Looking down, Stiles realized what had caught his attention to begin with.  Her right thigh had blood caked onto it, the dry portions slowly flaking off, the stiffness making moving it tug at the wound there.  

 

Stiles tried to think back to when the old wound had reopened and she had a vague recollection of the pain starting up once more while she was in the previous layer of her nightmare when she was standing before Talia’s headstone where it essentially declared that she had been murdered while she was carrying a child--a child that would never have a chance to live, a child whose life had been snuffed out before it even began.  From looking at Talia how they were currently in the past, Stiles assumes that Talia probably didn’t even know she was pregnant by the time she had died in the fire.  The thought brought out both rage and sadness but they were tempered by numb exhaustion.  

 

The sting of the antiseptic from the antibacterial wipes had Stiles jerking her attention back towards Jackson as he tended to her re-opened wound.  His hands were gentle and his actions purposeful.  He didn’t dig into the cuts on her leg instead he softly removed the blood before he meticulously surveyed the damage that Stiles’ had unknowingly done to herself.  Stiles herself gazed down at her mutilated thigh at the words she’s carved into her own flesh.  She could remember when the witch had mind whammied her into believing that the Nogitsune had returned.  She remembered in vivid detail all of the creative torments her own mind had thought up to reinforce the delusion.  She also remembered that her pack was finally able to bring her back when they found the necessary reversal materials but that they were too late to stop her from carving the words ‘wake up’ into her thigh with a broken piece of glass.  The words looked exactly how they had in her notebook from Coach’s class.  The cuts had scarred over as the years had passed and the wounds healed as well as they could but the scars would always remain, carved into her flesh.

 

“I wish that you didn’t have these scars.”  Jackson’s voice was soft.  It was kind, not filled with pity or reproach but saddened.  Stiles kept expecting her friend to turn against her and be cruel but she was so deeply happy that instead, the Jackson before her--apparition or not, was kind to her.  

 

Stiles only shrugged in response.  

 

“I’m happy you killed the bitch that did this to you.”

 

Stiles attention jerked once more towards Jackson, taken aback.  “You’re happy I killed her?”

 

Jackson stops in the middle of wrapping the gauze around her thigh to give her a slightly withering look, “I’m not Scott, Stiles.”

 

Stiles bowed her head slightly,  ashamed at comparing the actions of the two.  She still loved Scott deeply even if all that had happened had torn the two irrevocably apart.  

 

“I’m happy she can’t hurt you anymore, Stiles.  I am happy that she’s gone.  I’m just sad that you had to kill another person...and that you’re going to kill more.”

 

Stiles nodded her head silently.  She knew that before her end--whatever the hell that was going to be--she was going to have more blood on her hands.  Stiles briefly wondered if her ledger would be as full, as gushing, with blood as the Black Widow’s was.  

 

“I’m a killer, Jax.  I’m sure I can handle more blood.”

 

Feeling a sharp tug on the gauze around her thigh, Stiles looked up into Jackson’s  pinched face.  He finished tying off the bandages and shuffled until he was sitting beside Stiles once more only this time facing her.  He grabbed ahold of her face, gently but with enough pressure behind it implying his intent.  

 

He stared deeply into Stiles’ eyes, “You are _not_ a killer, Stiles.”

 

Stiles attempted to interrupt him but he shook his head, glaring slightly at her until she lapsed into silence once more.

 

“I know you believe you’re a monster Stiles but you’re not.”

 

Tears pricked once more at Stiles’ eyes.  They began to run down her cheeks quickly with Jackson swiping every once in awhile to clear them.  He rested his forehead against Stiles’ and let her quietly cry as the storm continued to rage outside.  

 

Minutes passed, or maybe even hours--time was a concept that Stiles had stopped keeping track of.  Wiping her eyes, Stiles looked up to see Jackson still watching her actions.  “It’s time for me to move on isn’t it?”

 

Jackson nodded, “Yes.  I wish you could stay here though.”

 

“Me too, Jax.”

 

“You remember how to get out of this?”

 

“I just remember screaming myself awake.  Why was this part different from the rest Jax?”

 

Jackson looked down briefly before he responded, “Like I said, you’ve been through enough Stiles.”

 

Tears pricking once more, Stiles threw herself at Jackson’s still form crushing him to her in a back breaking hug.  “I miss you Jax.”

 

“I miss you too Stiles.  I’ll see you soon.”

 

Pulling herself away, Stiles watched as Jackson stood and walked towards her window, opening it, looking back once more at Stiles and without a further pause, slid out into the night.  Looking around at her bedroom, Stiles took in her surroundings once more and finally screamed, “Wake Up!”

 

***

Stiles awoke on the couch in the Hale house living room, sitting upright and screaming.  The house and the glass in the window panes rattled and groaned in protest.  Suddenly, Stiles’ scream was cut off harshly.  

 

Slumping back into the dark blue cushions of the couch, Stiles took in shaking gasps as she attempted to regulate her breathing and her pulse.  She was extremely glad that this episode had occurred when no one else was inside the house.  She knew that Robert was at his publisher dropping off his recent column and checking his assignments, Talia had gone to the station to talk with Stiles’ dad, and everyone else was at their various schools going through their days.

 

Stiles sat up once more and looked around at her surroundings.  She had seen the Hale house in its state of disrepair but now that she was confronted with it in its full glory, Stiles couldn’t see how the two houses were the same.  The burned husk had been so imprinted on her mind that she was having trouble replacing it with the true version around her.  

 

Pushing out her magic, Stiles could feel the emotions that permeated the walls and the floors of the home surrounding her.  No longer were they filled with anguish nor did they smell of mildew or ashes.  Now, the walls and floors were filled with laughter and warmth and love.  These scents and emotions and this house had never felt the destructive force of fire.  

 

Stiles sat in her position in the middle of the couch and just allowed the welcoming, overwhelming emotions and scents that surrounded her to envelop her, warming her, filling her with something that was missing.  

* * *

 

“Thank you class for being so well behaved and understanding as Ms. Silver here learns the ropes.  Have a great day.  We’ll be seeing you tomorrow.  Don’t forget, while I will still be here tomorrow that Ms. Silver will be the one in charge of class.  Also, that it’s my last day for a little while.  Goodbye, class.”

 

Mrs. Reynolds dismissed the class with a smile as she waddled from the front of her desk where she had been standing beside Ms. Silver when she had been speaking towards where Derek was slowly packing up his own things.  

 

“Derek.”

 

Derek turned towards Mrs. Reynolds and smiled, “Hello, Mrs. Reynolds.”

 

Receiving a smile in return, Derek finished packing up his belongings and began to escort Mrs. Reynolds back to the front.  

 

“Thank you for staying again, Derek.”

 

Derek nodded, “Of course.”

 

Turning so that she was facing both Derek and Ms. Silver, Mrs. Reynolds introduced the two with a dismissive hand that they had already met but that was in a formal setting.  

 

“This is Derek Hale and he’s my best student.  I’ve asked him to help you in the classroom while I’m gone.  I hope that’s alright.”

 

Ms. Silver smiled while something flickered in her eyes, there and gone before Derek could decipher what he had seen.  “Of course.”

 

Derek was confused at Ms. Silver’s voice it had rolled slightly, elongating the words.  Mrs. Reynolds didn’t appear to notice so Derek shook it off and labeled it a weird quirk of the teachers.  

 

Derek couldn’t help but feel wary however as the teacher had been strange all day.  He had tried to continue writing off her small idiosyncrasies but there were a lot.  The teacher was a tall, leggy blonde that wore a long grey pencil skirt that went a bit below her knees but appeared draped tightly over her form.  She was thin but one could tell that her body was wiry with muscle.  Her blonde hair was long and wavy as it cascaded down her black blouse that was tucked into the top of her skirt.  

 

There was no point in not acknowledging that the substitute was attractive, practically the whole school was buzzing over how ‘hot’ the older woman was and how they’d like it if she would give them some ‘extra credit’.  

 

He could see the appeal but there was something off about her in his eyes.  She used her good looks to garner attention.  Derek could definitely see that with how her eyes sparked in mischief mixed amusement when she’d hear whispers that were quickly silenced as she walked by and by the amount of jaws that had dropped wherever she went.  

 

She also spent the class walking around, sighting wanting to view the classroom setting and Mrs. Reynolds’ teaching style from every angle.  Derek didn’t think anything odd of her behavior until the woman had stopped behind him multiple times.  Whenever he had looked in her direction after becoming uncomfortable with the perching and attention, she would give him this weird smile and wink before continuing on with a slight brush of her hand against his back and shoulder.  

 

 _Was she flirting with him?_  Derek quickly shoved that thought away.  Yeah, that wasn’t happening.    _Did he even want her to flirt with him?_ As the teacher’s attentions refused to wane, Derek became less comfortable with the idea.  He knew that at the end of class he would be meeting with her on a slightly one on one basis and while he really wished he could bail, he couldn’t leave Mrs. Reynolds hanging.  Pushing all of his worries to the side, he had continued to focus on class, trying his best to ignore the substitute until he was standing in front of her at this very moment.  

 

Refocusing on what was happening in front of him, he listened as Mrs. Reynolds’ appeared to be winding down on a speal about what to expect for the last few weeks of the school year and how the year usually wrapped up.  Derek could see that while Ms. Silver appeared to be listening, she didn’t seem to be actually taking in what Mrs. Reynolds was saying which while annoying to Derek, he could do nothing about.  Instead he focused on Mrs. Reynolds so he would at least have the information and wisdom she was imparting.  

 

When Mrs. Reynolds was finished she wished the two a great day and a cheery wish to see them both tomorrow.  Both Ms. Silver and Derek nodded and wished her a great day while watching her grab her possessions and head out, leaving Ms. Silver to lock up and return her key to the office.  

 

Derek readjusted his backpack on his right shoulder, straightening up his shoulders and wished Ms. Silver a good evening before he turned to leave.  Before he could make it two steps away from the desk and towards the exit, a hand wrapped itself around his right bicep drawing him short.  

 

Turning to face Ms. Silver once more, Derek was taken aback by how close the two of them were.  In fact he was so surprised that Derek did take a step away from the substitute though her grip around his bicep remained.  

 

Derek saw Ms. Silver use her free hand to adjust the hair that hand fallen in her face, flinging it to the side as she appeared to thrust out her chest slightly in Derek’s direction.  Her voice even dropped a bit as she rasped, “I hope that we get to work together a lot Derek.  You’re quite the guy to step up to help out Mrs. Reynolds.”

 

Derek could feel the tips of his ears turn red at the praise regarding Mrs. Reynolds.  He completely bypassed the first part of her statement and focused instead on Mrs. Reynolds, “It was no problem.  She’s my favorite teacher.”

 

“Mmm.  And you’re her favorite.”  Ms. Silver looked up into Derek’s eyes, “You’ll undoubtedly be mine as well.  If we’re going to be working together, I want you to be comfortable.  If you want, you can call me Kate.”

 

Derek opened his mouth in response but was silenced swiftly when Ms. Silver steamrolled over whatever he was going to say.

 

“It’s what college professors and their students do.  You’ll be doing it soon.  Why not get started?”

 

Derek could see the merit in her rationale but shook his head slightly, “That’s true but if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to call you Ms. Silver.  It’s a respect thing.”

 

Ms. Silver nodded but her smile looked forced now, tighter where it had been loose before.  “Of course.”  Her voice even sounded strange but she waved it off.  

 

Nodding swiftly, Derek soon attempted to extricate himself sighting that his sister Laura was waiting outside to take him home.  Ms. Silver nodded offering an ‘of course’ and with a squeeze of her hand wrapped around his bicep, she said her goodbyes and stepped back from Derek and turned towards the desk.  

 

Derek began his walk towards the front doors where he knew Laura was waiting parked right outside in the ‘no parking’ zone.  As he moved towards Laura, he couldn’t help but have his mind pulled in different directions.  He was confused at Ms. Silver’s odd actions, he was curious about Stiles--another topic that had threatened to pull his attention from his school work, and he was still trying to determine how he felt about all of the changes popping up in his life since Stiles’ impromptu arrival.  

  
Derek began to wonder just what kind of puzzle his life had recently become.


	8. Have You Ever Asked Yourself: Do Monsters Make War Or Does War Make Monsters?  -I Do, I Do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some harsh truths need to be revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, all! I am so sorry for the long hiatus that happened. Life was kicking my ass. I am a little rusty but I do hope that you enjoy this chapter. I am currently working on the next two and I hope to have them completed and out before Christmas. Wish me luck! Thank you to everyone who continued to read this story and encourage me--your kind words made me smile even on my darkest days. As always, please comment if the fancy strikes you. Thank you all for reading.

The dinner table was rather quiet yet charged that night as everyone sat around the table eating the pizza that Laura had brought home for the evening.  Derek tried to keep his eyes peeled on his meat lovers pizza but he couldn’t help but have his gaze drawn towards where Stiles was sitting at the far end of the table.  

 

She was wearing another of Laura’s blank tank tops but Derek noticed that the dark pants she had been wearing earlier that day were replaced by a lighter grey pair.  Her hair was piled up high on her head allowing Derek an unobstructed view of the long silver bar through the top of Stiles’ left ear and the left side of her neck.  

 

The blob of black he had seen earlier was finally resembling an image.  He could see that along the curve of her neck there was a black bird--a raven, or possibly a crow caught in flight.  From Derek’s point of view, it looked as though the bird was disintegrating, being unmade the longer he looked at it.  Beneath the bird though Derek could see faintly raised pink lines that appeared to disappear down her shoulder and out of Derek’s view.

 

Her hair along with the lower neck of the tank top that she was wearing afforded Derek a view of even more of Stiles’ pale flesh.  He remembered how this morning the blobs of ink that are currently displayed so proudly on her skin had just been coming into existence.  He could see the final product of the developing inkblots.  Along with the ink however, he could also see the scars that had been previously invisible to the naked eye.  

 

There was a long scar that circled lower around her neck.  It appeared to be healed but also as though it was fresh.  The juxtaposition was odd to Derek-- a scar that was both old yet new looking at the same time.  No matter the age of the injury, Derek could clearly see both where the scar was fuller, thicker, and where it was lighter.  Where there were multiple scars layering one upon another and just above and a smidge below the thicker band.  It looked as though someone had tried to garrott or strangle her.  The image that arose in his mind about just how Stiles would have gotten the vicious wound had the pizza Derek had already eaten threaten a revolt.  

 

Moving his attention from her neck, Derek attempted to further investigate the canvas of flesh that Laura’s borrowed clothes offered.  Derek didn’t feel any sexual urging to look his fill of Stiles’ flesh.  Instead, he felt compelled to solve the puzzle that was the new person in his life.  He had never liked puzzles or mysteries--they needed to be solved.  And the biggest puzzle of his life to date was a living, breathing one sitting at the dinner table.  

 

Refocusing his eyes, Derek traced down Stiles’ arms from his seat.  Stiles’ left arm was laying on the table, stretched beyond where her plate was set until it was curled lightly around her red cup.  Her grip was loose, the fingers moving in some kind of rhythm only she knew.  Derek could see that a long figure of black ink stretched from the inside of her fingertips up to the inner crease of her elbow.  It was some kind of vegetation that stretched along the inner length of her arm.  The figure appeared free flowing almost where it was imprinted upon her fingers and up her wrist.  After her wrist however, it appears as though the tattoo is abruptly cut off--shorn at the edges, incomplete.  

 

Trailing his eyes up even further, Derek can see large scaring covering the length and width of Stiles’ bicep.  He can see indentations of a jawline.  She was bitten by something.  Derek would bet a werewolf just by the size of the jaw alone but he could also see from this distance that the bite was obviously not consensual--not wanted.  Derek could see multiple layers of bites along the most prominent markings.  Her arm looked savaged--ravaged mercilessly.  The wound was long healed but Derek would imagine that some of the deeper places would still be sensitive.  Derek could also imagine that despite her healing from the wound and her body’s best efforts, the skin there would never be smooth again--never whole.  

 

Removing his eyes from that wound was more of a struggle than Derek would like to admit.  There was something down the outside length of her forearm, he knew, but he couldn’t see what it said from where he sat.  He resolved himself to seeing it another time to catalogue the words, the shapes, whatever it was so that he could piece together even more of the mystery before him.  

 

With a silent, almost imperceptible nod to himself, Derek allowed his eyes to wander across the open expanse of Stiles’ chest where his eyes caught onto smaller blobs of ink.  On the flesh he could see, Derek could see the remnants of small circular burns evenly spaced every few patches of skin.  The distances varied but the shape did not.  He couldn’t place where the marks may have come from but he could tell that nothing supernatural had caused them--at least not to the best of his knowledge.  There were also slashes that littered the spaces in between the burns. They were a combination of old and new.  The pinker skin setting itself apart from the overall pale skin.  Towards the lower left of her chest, Derek could see a larger, vertical slash that disappeared below the neckline of the tank top.  The slash appeared as though it was going through her heart.  It was also bisecting some black ink that Derek could see peeking out from underneath the fabric every time Stiles took a breath.  

 

Feeling as though he were ogling her, Derek panned his sight to the right side of Stiles’ upper torso.  Along her collarbone, Derek could see that there were two tattoos--one above and one below.  The one above appeared to be a signature of some sort.  A name written in some fancy script.  Below that were large, blocky, roman numerals that followed the curve of her collarbone: **DLX  XIX  MMLXVIII**.  Derek didn’t know what all of the numbers translated to but he tried his best to commit it to memory so he could look it up once he was hidden away in his room.  

 

Stiles’ right arm was--to the best of Derek’s knowledge, the most complexly tattooed part of her.  The tattoos were intricate and many.  It also appeared to be the one spot where color was added into the ink etched into her skin.  There was a black honeycomb pattern that spanned from the top of Stiles’ right shoulder all the way down the back of her right hand stopping along the top of the knuckles of her right fist.  Spaced between the spokes of the honeycomb pattern were individual tattoos.  They appeared to be old symbols.  Derek could see the bright splashes of colors that the symbols were cast in but he couldn’t make out the individual details from where he was seated.  There were bright reds the color of freshly spilled blood and cool, electric blues.  Refocusing back down towards her right hand, Derek could see a black tattoo partially obscured by the pizza crust that was held between her thumb and the rest of her hand.  All he could see was that it was a blot of black ink curled intricately, stretched upon the skin spanning between her thumb and index finger.  

 

Woven beneath the ink painting her flesh yet somehow appearing as part of it, were slash marks along her arm.  Just like on her left bicep, there was another set of markings curling around her right one as well.  This bite however wasn’t torn like the other.  Nor did it look as though she was viciously attacked.  This was one singular bite spanning the width of her upper arm.  From this bite, and even from this distance, Derek could sense that a werewolf had bit her right arm.  Derek couldn’t tell you how he knew this but it was undeniable.  

 

A voice breaking through the tense silence brought Derek out of his musings and appraisal of Stiles’ marked skin.  

 

“I went to the station today,” Talia’s voice was calm yet there was something beneath that calm that Derek could not decipher. “I had an interesting run in with one of the prisoners there.”

 

Derek’s dad looked up at Talia with a questioning expression, “Were they a hunter?”

 

Talia looked towards Robert and her expression softened slightly, “No, love.  He wasn’t a hunter.”  

 

Talia’s attention then slowly meandered around the room to refocus on Stiles who Derek saw was already watching Talia and meeting her eyes once they had landed on her.  “It was someone who was picked up for an attempted kidnapping at the old ice rink in town.”

 

Laura jumped in, “You said attempted?  Is the kid alright?  How’d they catch the guy?”

 

Without taking her eyes off of Stiles, Talia responded to Laura’s questions, “Yes, attempted.  It was Alicia Boyd.  She was there with her brother when she disappeared.  She’s alright--home safe with her family.  They caught the man because according to him and Alicia, there was a woman with gold eyes who used magic to save her.”

 

The table got silent once more, their eyes bouncing between Stiles and Talia.  Stiles offered no response, no defense of her actions or inactions.  She only sat straight in her chair looking straight ahead at Talia, the crust in her right palm twirling between her deft fingers.  

 

Talia continued, “The man then said that she threatened to kill him if he didn’t tell the cops everything.  What’s most interesting besides that is the fact that this happened the same night as when the cops were called to the Lahey’s residence.  Funny coincidence, I believe?”

 

“Once is an incident, two’s a coincidence, three’s a pattern.”

 

Stiles’ voice was calm and collected, lilting towards the end.  A small attempt at a smile graced her features.  

 

Talia paused here, “Are you saying that there will be a third incident, Stiles?”

 

Stiles’ small smile spread into a smirk, “Three’s a little boring.”

 

Robert broke into the silence that had settled upon the room with the stare down between Talia and Stiles.  “What’s going to happen to the attempted kidnapper?”

 

“Exactly what he deserves.”  

 

Talia jerked her head up towards Stiles, “And what exactly does that mean?”

 

“Well he’s going to jail isn’t he?”  Stiles paused, her head tilting, “Unless he didn’t follow my instructions?”

 

Talia’s expression turned grim, “Yes.  He followed your instructions.  Told the police everything.  He didn’t ask for a deal.  You’ve helped to take down a national sex trafficking network.”

 

After taking a moment to gather himself Derek finally voiced his thoughts aloud, “So... Stiles saved people?”

 

Stiles looked intently at Derek.  Her eyes scanning over his face multiple times--cataloguing or searching for something.  Derek felt the urge to ask her what she was looking for but he restrained himself.  Derek couldn’t tell if Stiles had found what she was looking for before his mom drew Stiles’ attention towards herself once more.  

 

“Yes she did.  As far as I know, she has saved many people.”

 

“Then what’s the problem sister mine?”  Peter’s voice was sickly sweet as it broke into the conversation.  “Our little Stiles beat up a would be kidnapper and saved a ton of children.  Is there a reason you’re so upset?  And don’t deny it,” he broke in when he saw Talia about to object, “I know you.”

 

Talia’s face tightened as her jaw clenched slightly.  “I have just one question of Stiles.”  She adjusted herself once more in her seat until she was staring at Stiles head on, face to face despite the space between them, “Would you have killed him like you said?”

 

Stiles' response was immediate, her smile wolfish and her eyes sparking golden, “Yes.”

* * *

 

If Peter had thought that the room was silent before, he had been wrong.  For a second, a glorious heartbeat, the dining room was so silent that someone could hear a pin drop--even someone without supernatural hearing.  An explosion of sound erupted shortly after everyone had recovered from Stiles’ admission.  

 

Susan stood up to take Cora from the room--she was too young to hear such things and Susan undoubtedly felt that the tension coating the room was bad for the baby.  She also knew that Peter would share with her whatever would transpire during her absence.  

 

There was yelling from Talia’s end of the table interspersed with Robert’s failing attempts to calm his wife.  Derek was staring in Stiles' direction with his jaw dropped.   _Hmm, I’ll have to keep an eye on that_ , he observed before his eyes moved on to Laura.  Her eyes were larger than normal as she looked between Talia and Stiles.  Peter did note however that when her eyes were focused in Stiles’ direction, her eyes appeared to be considering, almost appraising.  

 

Peter’s attention was pulled, as it seemed to be lately, towards Stiles herself.  She sat silently, leaning backwards in her chair as she watched the chaos erupt around her unblinkingly.  She appeared unfazed by the yelling and the appraising gazes that were thrown in her direction.  Instead she was looking straight ahead, looking passed the room as though she was seeing something else entirely rather than the four walls currently surrounding her.  

 

She undoubtedly was, he mused to himself.  He could admit that his earlier remarks when she had first arrived were pointed, even cruel in some respects and while he did, in retrospect, feel some remorse for the crass manner in which he questioned her, he could not bring himself to apologize.  He needed to protect his pack and she was an unknown variable--a powerful, unknown variable.  

 

His attention panned towards Talia.  He could tell that her inquiries were voiced because she worried for the safety of her pack like Peter but for the life of him, he couldn’t discern why she had decided to dance around the issue and ask for a confirmation of what she had undoubtedly already known.  

 

Peter had not known Stiles long, hell, she almost went out of her way to avoid touching him or being alone with him, but even  he could tell in the short increments of time he had spent within her company that Stiles was fierce, protective, and unforgiving--a wolf hiding in human skin.  

 

He recalled how protective she was over the Lahey boy.  So protective in fact that she had orchestrated his family to soon take him into their home.  He could see that the Boyd family held some importance to her.  Perhaps not the girl she had saved but someone.  Only an endangered pack member would warrant that level of dedication and threat of bodily harm that Talia attributes to Stiles’ encounter with the would be kidnapper.  

 

Peter could not deny that he was enjoying watching his sister’s feathers being ruffled.  He loved Talia dearly but even he could see that she was becoming complacent.  Lax in her training of Laura--not to mention the nearly non-existent training that Derek and Cora have had.  The appearance of Stiles could not have come at a better time.  

* * *

 

Laura looked between Stiles and her mother.  She couldn’t believe that someone, let alone a human seemingly out of her element, had the nerve to stare down the Hale Pack alpha and declare her intentions for murder.  

 

No one had ever stood against her mother-- against her alpha.  Laura could not deny that she was certainly intrigued by the newcomer and the current display was doing nothing but furthering that interest.  

 

Laura had no inclination to stand against her mother, to challenge the alpha of her pack but she could not deny that seeing someone else, someone who was not a physical challenge for her mother, standing so firmly under her alpha red gaze without flinching intrigued her.  Despite that interest, she did not know how to feel about Stiles’ admission of premeditated murder.  Obviously the man was a monster if he was going to kidnap a little girl and if he was going to sell her to sex traffickers but did that give Stiles the right to be judge, jury, and executioner?  Laura knew that in war or while protecting the pack, a wolf could do what they deemed necessary but this was not a time of war nor was Stiles a wolf.  

 

 _But then_ , Laura thought, _what if Stiles is stuck in a war that no one else sees?_

* * *

 

Stiles waited patiently for the pandemonium around her to settle down.  She was peripherally aware that Talia was shouting, Susan and Cora had left the dining room, and that the rest of the table was either stuck in a state of silence or they were attempting to calm Talia.  

 

If Stiles was honest with herself, she found some form of comfort in the shouting that was occurring around her.  It felt familiar.  It reminded her of when her pack had gathered around to discuss a plan for dealing with the monster of the week.  It had been so long since she had been surrounded by so many passionate voices.  Nevermind the fact that the voices were decrying her plans to murder someone.  Sadly, those shouts were familiar.  Even those sounds were welcome.  

 

 _Something’s wrong with me_ , Stiles mused sadly to herself.  

 

Stiles came back to the current room she was sitting in when she noted that a calmer atmosphere had descended upon the occupants.  Talia still appeared incensed but now Robert was sitting closer to her, holding her clenched left fist that was sitting upon the table.  Peter was leaning back in his chair, eyes tracking everyone in the room and cataloging them.  Derek and Laura’s attentions appeared to be split between where Stiles was sitting and where Talia and Robert were seated together.  

 

Talia was the first to break the the near silence that had descended with a deep breath in.  “You do realize that I am a lawyer and you admitted to planning a premeditated murder?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself?”  Talia’s voice was reprimanding yet quieter than Stiles expected.

 

“Yes it is.  It was a promise I made and now it appears as though that ‘promise’ is no longer a valid option.”

 

Talia’s left eyebrow raised slightly, incensed.  “We are not killers, Stiles.”

 

Stiles flinched back almost imperceptibly.   _You’re a killer.  We don’t kill people, Stiles!_

 

It appears as though Talia had not noticed that Stiles had briefly flinched and checked out of the conversation as she continued on, “...we may be seen as monsters by the rest of the world but not all monsters--”

 

“ _Do monstrous things_ , yes, I too know that phrase.”  Stiles interrupted, tired of the preaching that she had heard one too many times directed at her.

 

Talia stopped mid-speech when Stiles had taken the words right out of her mouth.  

 

“You’re right.  Scott was right.  A lot of people were right.   **Not all monsters do monstrous things.**  You know what I’ve found out?”  Stiles didn’t wait for a response to her query, “People are monsters.  They don’t need to have supernatural abilities or a compelling reason.  People are the real monsters.  They take and take and take.  They murder and torture and drag you to the brink of your sanity for nothing but the pure pleasure of it.  And not only are other people monsters but do you want to know the real kicker?  We aren’t scared of the monsters that surround us be they real or imaginary.  No!  We are more scared--more _terrified--_ of the monsters that live inside our own heads.  The monsters that creep within the shadows of the darkest places in our minds.  So _yes_ .  Yes, I threatened that scumbag.  I threatened to literally remove his guts if he didn’t tell the police everything he knew.   _Yes_ !  I would have done it.  I would have hunted the man down and depending on my mood, taken my sweet time extracting every sliver, every iota, of information from his bleeding corpse until he finally begged for mercy and _then_ I would have killed him.  He had information that I wanted--information I needed.”  Stiles paused, breathing deeply noting that at some point she had stood during her tirade.  “I would have killed him,” she continued quietly, “he would not be the first person I have had to kill or torture and I assure you, he would not be the last.”

 

Stiles looked up towards Talia, directing her eyes from where they had fallen to the table top during her quieter admission.  “You do not know--you could not fathom, how the last few years of my life have gone.  You could guess but you would be wrong.  I do what is needed of me whether that falls within the spectrum of grey that I’ve become so used to or if that involves me getting my hands bloody.  I do what I need to in order to protect my pack.  I told you that the night we met at the hospital.  I am going to do everything within my power--everything I have to-- to ensure that my pack not only survives but thrives in the new path that I am forging for them.  If that means I need to threaten some low life or murder a couple people then so be it.”  

* * *

 

Talia was struck speechless by what Stiles had said.  Her words reverberated throughout the room challenging Talia, prompting her wolf’s hackles to raise.  Talia pushed down her instincts in response to the summons.  Instead, Talia watched Stiles and allowed her words to sink in.  

 

Nothing Stiles said was untrue.  Stiles had warned Talia that she was dangerous and highly protective.  She had warned Talia that she’d burn down the world and not apologize for it.  Despite what Stiles claimed, Talia could understand her drive to protect her pack by any means.  Perhaps Stiles was right in the way that while Talia could think up various scenarios for what she had gone through, that nothing would come close to the reality.  Talia had no room to judge the actions of another alpha.  And that’s exactly what Stiles was.   _How could I forget that?_

 

How could she have been so stupid to have forgotten that the young woman sitting at her table was the alpha of her pack--a future alpha of the Hale Pack.  That she was a High Mage?  That she was her pack’s emissary?  How could she forget that Stiles had declared herself loyal to the Hale Pack?  Someone who was tied so much so that she could not tell where she ended and her pack bond began?

 

Talia sat in her chair quietly reordering her thoughts.  She saw out of the corner of her eye, Stiles drop once more into her chair at the other end of the table.  Talia bowed her head in a show of respect and deference from one alpha to another.  Talia heard Peter make an inquiring hum but she payed him no mind, her attention focused wholly on Stiles.  She watched as Stiles searched her features once more and after a short pause, returned the dip of her head in Talia’s direction.  

 

“I apologize High Mage Stiles.”

 

Stiles appeared to pause slightly at the formal title but nodded once more in Talia’s direction, “As do I, Alpha Hale.”

 

“You are right,” Talia allowed, “I do not know what has happened to you.  I also do not fault you for how you choose to conduct pack affairs.  In fact, it is disrespectful that I challenged you in regards to such personal matters.”  Talia paused here not knowing how to continue without sounding patronizing.  There was nothing for it however if she was to get her point across, “The instincts you are following now are used in times of war.  And we are not at war.”

  
A bitter laugh followed Talia’s words.  Talia could have sworn she saw grief flicker through Stiles’ eyes before they shifted into something colder.  “And with all due respect _Alpha Hale_ , that is where you’re wrong.”  Stiles leaned forward setting her crossed arms upon the table in front of her before she gazed deeply into Talia’s eyes.  She continued, sure that she had Talia’s full attention, “You’re already at war.  You just haven’t realized it yet.”


	9. I Don't Pay Attention To The World Ending.  It Has Ended For Me Many Times And Began Again In The Morning.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hale Family reels from Stiles' revelation and grapples with the implications. Laura and Stiles bond (Derek always knew it would be a bad idea).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everyone! Happy Early Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! I hope this finds everyone well! Please comment and leave kudos--they are always welcome! Happy Reading!

Derek meandered his way up the stairs.  He had sat at the dinner table for a long time after Stiles had left with her parting comment.  His mom had looked confused yet distressed.  Her chemo-signals were all over the place.  She seemed worried and he could also sense that there was some anger there as well.  He couldn’t tell if the anger was directed at Stiles or if it was directed inwards instead.  

 

He walked down the hall turning right to enter his room but he stopped suddenly.  He stood there in the hallway facing his door with his back towards the room Stiles was using while she was staying with them.  He could hear Stiles’ rabbit fast heartbeat and her steady breathing but nothing else.  Derek had noticed that Stiles’ heartbeat was always fast--always a beat out of sync from anyone around her.  It makes her heartbeat stand out in a crowd.  Derek often finds himself seeking out the heartbeat for no reason.  He seeks it out while he walks the halls of Beacon Hills High without conscious thought.  Everytime he realized he was seeking out a heartbeat that wasn’t there, Derek had to shake himself and refocus on whatever it was he had been doing before.  

 

Before he could reconsider the idea that popped into his head, Derek turned swiftly, took a handful of steps until he stood in front of Stiles’ door and he knocked upon the wooden surface quietly.  

 

He listened to Stiles’ heartbeat get closer until he heard the floorboard just in front of the other side of the door creak and then Stiles was there opening the door.  Derek could tell from his position that the lights inside the room were off and that the windows were open due to the breeze that swept over him bringing the scents of rain and forest.  

 

“Is it alright if we talk?” 

 

Stiles only watched Derek, her eyes scanning his face once more.  She seemed to be having some kind of internal struggle before she eventually stepped aside allowing him access into her room.  “Take a seat wherever.”

 

Derek nodded to show he was listening but he used the moment he had facing away from her to inhale deeply.  Stiles’ scent was the epitome of petrichor--he could smell the rain meets earth quality that the air took when rain was coming.  Her scent also reminded him of the forest’s undergrowth.  He could smell the scent of old paper.  He could also detect a slightly familiar scent.  It was coming from the jacket lying upon the bed.  The scent was cloying and it struck a chord deep within him but Derek for the life of him, couldn’t place the scent.  

 

Letting that go, Derek turned once more to see that Stiles was leaning slightly against the door she had just closed with her arms crossed against her chest.  Stiles leaned over slightly and flicked the light switch on.  Diffused light spilled out into the room making Derek blink slightly to allow his eyes to adjust.  

 

Despite being able to see Stiles even in the dark, Derek found that the addition of the light allowed him to see even more of Stiles’ figure.  He could see that she was now barefoot and that there was a tattoo in thick black lines that took over the top of her right foot.  It was an intricately connected design.  It was in some kind of diamond formation with cubes upon cubes connected to each other.  Just beneath the figure there was a single, solitary black line.  Derek felt as though he should know what that symbol means.  

 

Scanning his eyes back up, Derek finds he can finally see what the tattoo that runs the length of Stiles’ outside forearm.  In a slightly cursive script reads, “What matters most is how you walk through the fire”.  

 

Stiles clearing her throat alerted Derek to the fact that he had spent who knows how long inside of Stiles’ room staring at her like a creeper.  

 

“If you’re done acting like a CreeperWolf…” Stiles smirked slightly.

 

Derek shook his head, “Sorry.”

 

Stiles nodded once and repeated that Derek could sit anywhere.  Derek took another deep breath and then he sat upon the edge of Stiles’ bed.   _ There aren’t that many choices _ , he reasoned internally.  

 

Stiles only huffed slightly, shifting away from the door to close the distance between the two.  Derek watched as Stiles sat close to the pillows a fair distance away from him but still close enough that the two could hear each other without raising their voices.  

 

“Was there something you needed, Derek?”

 

“I just--” Derek paused here unsure why exactly he had come to Stiles’ room in the first place.  Stiles waited Derek out patiently.  “Did--,” Derek stopped himself once more and finally just threw out the first thing that came to his mind in order to avoid further embarrassment, “Do you really think we’re at war and that we haven’t noticed?”

 

Derek noticed that Stiles paused at his question.  Her face had a pinched, anguished quality to it.  Derek watched as Stiles tried to push back the overwhelming emotion that had come across her features despite her best intentions.  He watched the sadness that had previously occupied her features retreat and smooth into a mask of regret yet false calm.   _ She’s hiding _ , he thought sadly.  

 

Derek couldn’t pinpoint why exactly he felt so sad that Stiles chose to hide herself away from him.  She doesn’t owe him anything--she doesn’t know him.  What else should he expect?  A small voice from deep inside himself spoke up,  _ To share with you so you can make it better _ .  

 

Derek shook his head attempting to dislodge the voice and place the high pitched whine that his inner wolf loosed at seeing Stiles hide herself away, from his mind.  

 

“Yes, Derek.”  Derek looked up to see Stiles looking away from him.  She was looking out to the right, out the open windows at the black sky full of stars.  “A war has just started beneath all of your noses.  A war you could never have seen coming.”  

 

He could have sworn he saw a sheen of tears cover the eye he could see.  He could have sworn that a tear had almost slipped from Stiles’ left eye but it never fell.  Instead he watched as Stiles closed her eyes for a long moment.  

 

At this angle, Derek could see even more of the artwork placed upon Stiles’ body.  If one wasn’t looking from this angle, they wouldn’t notice that there was a small box-like  **己** symbol just behind Stiles’ ear.  

 

Derek could also clearly see that the bird in flight that he had seen earlier was indeed a raven.  It’s wings were the most prevalent part of the creature.  They were lifted upwards sweeping even higher up her neck.  The talons were extended downwards along with the beak giving the bird the appearance that it was swooping in either to land or catch its prey.  The whole tattoo was in shades of black until the very tips of the wings which appeared to be shattering into pieces--fading back into the pale skin of Stiles’ neck.  

 

Being so close also allowed Derek to further investigate the raised pink lines he had seen earlier which appeared to emanate from beneath the raven to flow down the back of  Stiles’ left shoulder.  From his angle, Derek could see that the lines were more prevalent than he had assumed and that they did flow from underneath the tattoo and over her shoulder where they still disappear beneath the fabric of Laura’s tank top.  

 

“But don’t worry,”  Stiles’ voice broke through the comfortable silence that had befallen the two, drawing Derek’s attention.  He looked up just in time for Stiles to turn towards him and catch his eyes, her own flashing gold once more, “The outcome will be vastly different.”

* * *

 

Laura walked up into Talia’s office without knocking.  Her mom’s office was the only room that had soundproofing capabilities courtesy of Deaton’s magic.  Mom had wanted a place where she could discuss private pack business without the possibility of their conversations being overheard.  

 

Ignoring her mother’s surprised face, Laura rotated quickly to close the door, sealing the soundproofing once more.  Facing the room again, Laura took in the expressions of her mother sitting at her desk, her father standing beside her with his right palm rubbing reassuring circles on her mother’s back, and Uncle Peter seated in one of the leather chairs in front of Talia’s desk swirling some wolfsbane whiskey absentmindedly.  

 

Uncle Peter continued the thought that Laura’s entrance had undoubtedly interrupted, “And what else are we to do, Talia?”

 

“I don’t know, Peter.”

 

“Well obviously the young mage knows exactly what is going to happen.  She’s been sent back for some reason.  Perhaps to change the outcome of the war that originally led to her death?”  Peter let the question hang in the air for a moment before he continued, “We have someone who knows the events that are about to come to pass.  We have someone willing to do the dirty work, as it were.  Why don’t we take advantage of that fact?”

 

“She is a  _ child _ .”  Talia’s voice was livid as her eyes flashed red.  

 

Peter begrudgingly lowered his head in deference to his alpha but still he ventured, “And you have heard her yourself.  She has killed before.”  Peter leaned forward in his chair, expression hardening, “You may want to treat her as the child you see when you look at her but by doing that you are refusing to see that the girl before you is a soldier.  She is a warrior--not the victim you are painting her to be.”  

 

“Peter, that’s enough” Broke in Robert.  

 

Peter looked at him, “No!  It is not.  You know it.  I know it.  Stiles knows it.  Her life begins and ends as a soldier.” He looks towards Talia once more, “You cannot save her.  She is already lost.  We all know it--she will die a soldier--nothing more, nothing less.”

 

Talia rose and moved so quickly that Laura didn’t see her cross the room.  She certainly heard the resounding slap of Talia’s hand against Peter’s face however.  When her eyes finally fell upon her mother standing above a stunned Uncle Peter, Laura found herself transfixed by the events playing out before her very eyes.  

 

Laura could see that while Uncle Peter was stunned, his eyes were blazing even as they lowered themselves in chastisement.  Laura could also see the moment that her mother’s actions caught up with her.  She could see how her mother seemed to physically recoil from Peter almost as though she could distance herself from the action she had just committed.  Talia’s expression was stricken.  Her normally tan skin, pale, her eyes horrified as she took in Peter’s still form with the slowly healing red welt in the shape of her handprint upon his right cheek.  

 

“Peter,” She breathed, “I am so sorry, brother.”

 

“No need Alpha Hale.  I assure you--you’ve made your point perfectly clear.”  Peter’s voice was strained.

 

“No.”  Talia’s voice shook as she took timid, shuffling steps back towards Peter’s seated form.  “Please Peter, do not refer to me as Alpha Hale.”

 

“You are my alpha, Talia.  What else am I supposed to call you?”  Peter’s voice was sharp yet still respectful, quiet.  

 

“Talia.  Just Talia.”  Laura’s mother said as she proceeded to drop to her knees in front of her brother to cling to him.  Laura could no longer see her mother’s face but she could smell the shame and the guilt--and the sadness that was emanating from her mother’s direction.  She could also smell the salt of her tears.  “I am so sorry, Peter.  Please forgive me.  Please.”

* * *

 

Stiles did not sleep that night.  She spent the time since Derek had left until the earliest hours of the morning just lying in her bed staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows grow both longer and shorter as time moved around her.  

 

She realized while she was lying there that perhaps she had said too much--let her emotions get the better of her.  She would like to think that perhaps she did it because she needed Talia to understand why she had done what she had but deep within herself she knew the truth.  

 

She had said what she did because she wanted to hurt Talia--to strike a wound deep within her.  Fracture her just a fraction of what Stiles was.  She had wanted to grab the calm, judgemental woman and shake her until her teeth rattled.  She wanted to scream at her until she was blue in the face.  Yes, she wanted Talia to understand but she also wanted her to put the pieces in front of her together.

 

They were so obvious to Stiles.  A random stranger appears covered in blood with news that she was sent back in time to prevent a war.  One would think that if such a person arrived, everyone would be on high alert waiting for the next shoe to drop.  There would be some shoring up of defenses.  There would be questions.  

 

It took Stiles hours lying upon her bed turning the idea over and over again in her mind before she came to the realization.  What Stiles had expected to occur after her arrival would have been what  _ she _ would have done.   _ She  _ would have attacked the problem immediately, researching the hell out of it.  Drawing up scenarios and plans upon plans.  The Hale Pack she had fallen into now was nothing like what she was used to.  They weren’t used to war.  They weren’t even used to being attacked.  In fact, her Derek had told her that the only attack they had been forced to deal with was when Deucalion was blinded by Gerard Argent.  The Hale Pack was a powerful pack--a force to be reckoned with.  They never saw war.  They never even saw it coming.  

 

The sun begins to flood in through the open window warming the floors and bathing everything the light touches in warmth.  With the rise of the sun, Stiles comes to the conclusion that expecting a peaceful pack to prepare for war was unfair.  Stiles realized that she didn’t want the Hale Pack to fracture, to become as jaded and as accustomed to war as hers was--she wanted to protect them.  She wanted to shield them from what was coming.  Stiles knew that there was a caveat to that: the more you try to protect someone by cutting them out of your life or withholding information from them, the more danger they were in.  She couldn’t be responsible for the destruction and death of another Hale Pack.  She couldn’t bear that.  

 

The choice she faced now could never be simple: to tell the truth and watch it destroy them or to keep them in the dark and watch it kill them.  Either way, the Hale Pack would never be the same.  

 

_ But at least one way they’ll be alive--even if they’re miserable--even if they hate you.  At least they’ll be alive to hate you. _

* * *

 

Laura was the first downstairs the next morning.  She had found herself tossing and turning restlessly after what she had witnessed in her mom’s study.  She had slipped from the room as quietly as she could leaving her mother, father and Uncle alone.  

 

She had heard Derek and Stiles talking when she had walked towards her room just down the hall.  She had tried not to listen but she found herself curious as to what they were talking about.  When she had heard Derek struggle to ask if they were really at war, Laura had sucked in a breath, holding it in the silence that followed the question.  

 

_ “Yes, Derek… A war has just started beneath all of your noses.  A war you could never have seen coming.”   _

 

There was a long pause and Laura had thought that was going to be all that was said until she hear an intake of breath,  _ “But don’t worry, the outcome will be vastly different.” _

 

Laura didn’t know whether to feel gratitude that Stiles was fighting for them despite all that had undoubtedly happened to her, apprehension because had sounded so resigned and sure about a war starting, or saddened because she could sense that Stiles was exhausted.  

 

Stiles never gave off chemosignals that she was tired but Laura could  _ feel _ how weary Stiles actually was behind the mask she wore around them.  She got the sense that Stiles was the kind of exhausted that sleep couldn’t fix.  She felt that Stiles had been through the ringer and the speech that Stiles had addressed in the middle of the dinner table did nothing but further cement that feeling for Laura.  

 

Laura felt a bone deep sorrow when she thought about what Stiles had said to her mother about it not being the first nor last time she had been forced to get her hands bloody to keep her pack safe.  When Stiles had talked about people being afraid of the monsters lurking inside their own heads, Laura could have sworn that something had flashed in Stiles’ eyes but it was there and gone before Laura could get a proper look at it.  

 

Laura walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway to observe the scene in front of her.  Stiles was standing at the kitchen sink with a steaming mug in her clasped hands.  Laura could smell the strong scent of coffee from where she stood.  She knew that Stiles knew that she was standing in the doorway but Stiles neither turned towards her nor offered her any indication that she felt her presence.  

 

Deciding to give Stiles some space, Laura walked into the kitchen, skirting along the edges until she made it to the island.

 

“There’s fresh coffee in the pot.”  

 

Stiles’ voice was soft as it broke through the quiet stillness of the morning.  

 

“I’m sure you knew that but I’m used to saying it aloud anyway.”

 

Laura nodded with a whispered, “Thank you.” 

 

Stiles nodded without turning towards her, still standing in front of the kitchen sink staring out into the woods of the preserve.  Laura could smell Stiles’ scent over the strong smell of coffee. She could smell rain and old books along with the electric tang of her magic.  She could also smell that Stiles was conflicted, anxious...tired.  Laura didn’t know if the tiredness came from a lack of sleep or from something else.  She wanted to ask but at the same time she didn’t want to know if she was right.  

 

Instead of delving into deeper subjects, Laura jumped on the first thought that fluttered through her mind. “So mom says you need to go shopping?”

 

There was a small, rueful chuckle from Stiles’ direction--the realest that Laura had heard her utter since her arrival.  It was small and not very happy but the fact that a real emotion had erupted past Stiles’ colder exterior had a relieved half smile find it’s way onto Laura’s face.  

 

Laura watched as Stiles turned her attention from the woods outside towards Laura, resettling herself so she was leaning against the counter behind her.  “It would appear so.”  There was a small smile on Stiles’ face before it was covered by the large blue mug as she took a deep drink.  

 

The two stood and sat, respectively, in their various places in the kitchen indulging in their caffeine fix allowing the silence of the morning to settle around them.  

 

Laura could tell that Stiles was watching her.  She made no move to hide her gaze and rather than fight it, Laura met her eyes watching her in return.  She felt more than saw the approving smirk that settled on Stiles’ lips as she continued to drink her fill.  Laura could not deny that her wolf puffed up slightly at Stiles’ approval.  Laura was confused at her wolf’s desire to have Stiles’ good judgement on her side thus she shoved the reaction from her mind.  

 

“I’m going to assume you don’t like shopping.” Laura decided to break the comforting silence first seeing as Stiles seemed to live in the silences.  She did notice however that despite Stiles’ acquaintance with silence that it made her restless.  Her fingers drummed or she shuffled, she had some form of movement take over her body while she was stuck in the quiet surrounding her.  

 

“Gods no.  I hate it,” She chuckled. “I had a friend who had gotten so tired of my plaid shirts and baggy jeans that she dragged me nearly kicking and screaming to the mall.  Worst day...ever.”  

 

Laura had watched in fascination as Stiles’ face had transformed, a smile taking over her features and her eyes focused on something that wasn’t in the room.  Her eyes had sparked slightly, caught up in a good memory.  Her features were softened, her expression open until Laura had watched as she came back to herself slowly, building up the walls once more until her lively words had fallen to a solemn conclusion.

 

Laura felt as though she had seen something--someone else in those brief moments.  Perhaps who Stiles used to be, who she hid under her protective facade.  Laura could see that Stiles was struggling with something as her expression shuttered once more.  Wanting to avoid any pitfalls and perhaps get another emotion out of the now solemn girl before her, Laura chugged the last dregs of her coffee, marched towards the sink and once she filled it with water, turned towards the girl beside her with a smirk, “I guess kicking and screaming it is then.”

 

A small smirk was Stiles’ only response as she placed her mug beside Laura’s, “I guess it is.”

* * *

 

Despite the joke of dragging Stiles out of the house, Laura found that Stiles wanted to get out of the house and on the move just as much as Laura herself did.  The ride into town was peaceful as music drifted softly within the silence between the two.  Neither one mentioned what had happened last night--the words that were spoken, the actions witnessed, nor the resulting sleepless night.  

 

Instead, Stiles looked out the window watching the scenery pass by as the camaro cruised along the smooth road into town.  Laura noticed that Stiles’ hands were constantly moving, drifting over the leather interior--never still.  

 

Bypassing the mall and any other shop that Laura’s mom would undoubtedly approve of, Laura continued on the road out of town while Stiles sat in the passenger seat going along for the ride.  There was a little shop that Laura knew would be perfect for Stiles that was just out of town.  Her mom would never approve of what was there and that just made it all the more fun in her mind.  

 

“Have you ever heard of a little shop called Sirens?” 

 

Stiles looked towards Laura quietly and shook her head, murmuring a low, ‘No.”

 

A large, satisfied smile stretched it’s way across Laura’s features.  “Fantastic.”

Stiles chuckled at Laura’s self-satisfied tone as she watched Laura return her attention to the road, her smile settled seemingly permanently.  “And I’m guessing this store is ‘one of a kind’?  I was going to say something along the lines of you having your wicked way with me but I felt that perhaps stretched the bounds of our relationship at the moment.”

 

Laura immediately attempted an innocent expression despite knowing that Stiles would see through it easily.  “I have no idea what you could possibly mean.”  She paused, “And I  _ will _ be having my wicked way with you--at least in one way.”  She winked conspiratorially in Stiles’ direction before looking forward again.  

 

An indulgent smirk was the only response she got in return.

 

The next ten minutes passed in an amused silence before Laura turned off the road and into a miniature plaza.  The plaza itself was nothing to write home about.  It was a building connecting six different shops with it’s bright blue paint and stacked stone.  Sirens was located between a pizza parlor named Tony’s and a nail salon with a large neon red nail polish bottle shining brightly above the door.  

 

Laura pulled into the open spot just in front of Sirens and turned off the engine.  She removed her seatbelt and rotated to watch as her companion did the same.  

 

“This shop is great and Natasha will know just what to do with you.”  Laura looked at her borrowed clothes on Stiles’ body briefly before refocusing her attention on Stiles, “This is going to be so much fun.”

* * *

 

The shop was bigger on the inside.  No that wasn’t a joke or some kind of hyperbolus remark that had muscled its way out of Stiles’ lips.  The shop really was bigger on the inside.  When Laura and her had first walked in, the style of both the building and the rows of clothes was reminiscent of any small shop in any mall but after Laura had introduced her to a tall, dark skinned lady with piercing emerald eyes named Natasha, suddenly, the store shifted and even more racks of clothes and aisles were added to the previously cramped space.

 

Natasha must have seen Stiles’ surprise because she answered the unvoiced question, “I’m a siren and I own this shop with my best friend Stephon--he’s a warlock.  That’s why the shop appears larger--because it is.  But only for select clientele.”  She winked.

 

Stiles watched as Laura and Natasha bent their heads together no doubt discussing what they were going to do about her clothes.  She felt no need to listen in--her fate would befall her soon enough. Instead, she walked around the aisles leaving the two to scheme.  Her hands drifted along every piece of clothing as she walked by.  Her magic was restless, roiling intermittently at the barriers within her mind.  

 

The appearance of the two ladies she had left behind in the aisle just before her jolted Stiles out of her wandering.  As did their smirks as they each walked towards her, grasping an arm each and began to lead her towards a dressing room.

 

Stiles resigned herself to her fate as a life size barbie doll once more as they closed the door behind her and returned shortly after with armfuls upon armfuls of clothes.  

* * *

 

Hours later after many arguments, struck bargains and mountains of clothes, Stiles ended up leaving the store with over a dozen bags filled to the brim with new clothes courtesy of the Hales.  Stiles had tried to refuse the amount of the clothes, the style of the clothes and most definitely the price but most, if not all, of her protests fell upon deaf ears.  

 

She had been correct in the fact that she was there to be a life size fashion project.  Laura and Natasha both had taken great pleasure in putting Stiles in multiple outfits of varying styles.  Stiles would be lying if she said that she hadn’t had at least a little bit of fun.  The outfits were not exactly what Stiles would have chosen but she did quite enjoy the finished product.  

 

Even though most of the outfits showcased large amounts of skin--mainly her scars and tattoos, Stiles felt...sexy.  Lydia would have keeled over multiple times over the wardrobe that Natasha and Laura had amassed.  Once for the fact they gathered a lot of plaid shirts for her after one of the bargains that she would let them put her in anything if they gave her plaid, twice for the clothes that Laura and Natasha had thrown at her and she actually bought, and third for the fact that Stiles had actually had fun.  

 

The three of them had whiled away the hours with jokes, derisive snorts regarding some of the clothes, shared funny anecdotes, and each of their sarcasm drifting throughout the atmosphere between them.  As the drive back to the Hale Mansion drifted once more into a comfortable silence, Stiles began to think back to what made the trip the most interesting:  

 

_ Just before Laura and Stiles had made their way towards the front register, another person had made their way through the store towards them.  He was a tall man dressed in a striking emerald green three piece suit with a white button up shirt.  His eyes were a dark cinnamon color that flashed purple once they landed on Stiles.  His face was open with a subtle smile upon his lips.  His face was kind as he approached their group of three. _

 

_ Natasha looked just as surprised by the arrival of the man as Laura and Stiles were.  She appeared to shake herself from her stupor as she placed a smile upon her face.   _

 

_ “Laura, Stiles, this is my business partner Stephon.” _

 

_ “Hello Laura,” He nods in her direction before facing Stiles, “Stiles?” _

 

_ His eyes flash a vibrant purple once more once they met Stiles’ eyes.  “I have some things for you.”  His voice was a deep tenor, calming and filled with magic.  It washed over Stiles, settling in her bones.   _

 

_ The three watched as Stephon began to walk back the way he came.  He did not turn around or slow his pace because he undoubtedly knew that they would  soon be following.   _

 

_ The trio followed Stephon to the back of the store where a door was hidden in the wall, blending into it almost.  Stephon had opened the door and led them through.   _

 

_ Inside there were crystals hanging from every direction from every crook and cranny.  There were large crystals and small crystals, solid colored and multi-colored ones.  There were chunks of crystal and necklaces and rings and other assorted items adorned with crystals.   _

 

_ “Many people don’t know this part of the store exists.  Some people also believe that crystals are just elegant, elemental treasures to be showcased.  While it is true that crystals deserve to be shown off, they are much more than jewelry.  They are magical symbols, which I’m sure you know, Stiles.” _

 

_ “Yes. They are much more than just shiny stones.” _

 

_ Stephon nodded.  “They are used in healing and in focusing for example.”  Here, Stephon looked directly at Stiles as he grasped her right hand, “I have quite a few that I feel will be helpful for you.” _

 

_ Stiles followed Stephon as he moved forward within his maze of crystals.  He stops and picks up quite a few objects from around the room before he begins to place them on Stiles himself.   _

 

_ “A rose quartz crystal ring for balance and harmony after a wounding.  I dare say it goes quite well with the other silver rings you’ve acquired.” He smiled up at Stiles as he slid the ring onto the middle finger of her right hand.   _

 

_ “A small, blue lapis lazuli stone ring for wisdom...and for other things.”  He winks conspiratorially as he slips the small ring on her left index finger until it clinks against the others.  _

 

_ “A large hematite crystal pendant for clarification, reduction of anxiety.  Two in fact.  The shifting white and black will offer you much.  And three large amethyst crystals.  One a longer necklace, one a short one closer to your heart and the other wrapped in silver along your wrist.  They will each aid with healing and offer protection.”  At this, Stephon pulls Stiles close to him as he slips the necklaces over her neck.  He whispers low so only she can hear, “I can feel your pain, my dear.  Shattered pieces cutting deep.  Drawing blood.  You’re fading but present.  Frozen yet cracking.  There is much to come.” _

 

_ He pulls back slowly, staring deeply into Stiles’ eyes.  “These are my gifts to you.  Free of charge.  If you see anything else in here that calls to you, that too is a gift.  Farewell Alpha High Mage Stilinski.”  His parting words echoed in the darkened room as he himself began to fade into the shadows.   _

 

_ The three were left behind in the room as their host disappeared.  Natasha did not appear shocked that Stephon had disappeared--only that he had made an appearance at all.  Laura was watching the space from which the man had been standing only moments ago as though waiting for his return.  Stiles was staring down at the necklaces currently hanging from her neck.  She could feel them vibrating against her skin, connecting and sparking off her magic until them both settled into a low-base thrum.  _

 

_ Stiles can feel something else pulling her from within the room.  Ignoring the two other people present, Stiles begins to wander the small, darkened room feeling the pull grow ever stronger.  Stiles comes to a stop in front of a closed, darkly finished, wooden box.  The pull is stronger and the room silent as she reaches forward to grasp it.  Pulling the box towards herself, Stiles takes in a breath and then lifts the lid.  Inside there is a deep royal purple satin that surrounds a necklace made of moonstone in the shape of a moon.  The necklace is in silver.  The jewel set more towards the left so that the right side is curved into a waning moon reaching towards it.  There are symbols and patterns in the surrounding silver around the gem on the right but on the left side there is a vine that is curling around the moonstone.   _

 

_ Carefully, Stiles lifts the necklace from its surroundings, placing the box back where she found it.  The necklace is small in the palm of her hand yet it has a weight to it.  Turning it in her hands, Stiles sees that there is a clasp which she opens to reveal that the necklace is more than just a simple pendant.  It is a locket and it’s frames were empty.  The longing pull within her throbbed as she stood staring at the empty locket.  Both sides offered a place for an image and Stiles could feel deep inside of her that she knew what images would reside there from now on.   _

 

“Well that was certainly fun.”  Laura’s voice broke the companionable silence as they drew ever closer to the Hale house.  

 

“Yes it was,” Stiles hummed and then continued quietly, “Perhaps the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

 

Stiles saw Laura jerk slightly in her seat and even though Stiles was certain that Laura had heard her remark and wanted to ask about it, she saw that Laura instead pretended as though she had not.  Stiles felt grateful for the small mercy.  She had not meant to say that last part aloud.  Think it, yes, but never say it.  Thinking back however, Stiles saw that she had meant what she had unintentionally said.  She  _ had _ had fun on this outing with Laura.  She hadn’t laughed like that in what felt like years.  She could almost forget about what had occurred in her life a few short days ago, lifetimes ago, even.  Almost.  

 

She watched silently as Laura pulled the camaro up in front of the house and she turned the engine off.  Just before Laura could get out of the car however, Stiles felt compelled to speak. “Laura,”  Her voice was loud in the previous silence but Laura had ceased her movements to vacate the car, “thank you.  For today.”  Stiles’ voice was stilted and she had wanted to say more but found that the words that had already escaped her lips were enough for now.

 

She gazed at Laura in the ensuing silence as Laura looked at her in return before giving Stiles a small, pleased smile, “Of course.” 

 

At that, both women exited the car and grabbed the frankly absurd amount of bags that the two had accumulated at Sirens.  Laura followed Stiles up to her designated room bypassing everyone else who was home and helped Stiles put away her new clothes and accessories.  Looking at the ‘spoils’ as Laura called them as they were thrown upon her bed, Stiles could not believe the multitude of clothes and things that the two women had made her try on.  There were heeled boots, actual heels, jean shorts, low necked tank tops, leather skirts (thank you, Erica), plaid button ups, stockings and garters, ripped jeans, plenty of black pieces“They’re my gift of witchy clothes, Stiles deal with it.”, see-through and strapped articles of clothing--including bras, and a couple fancier clothes interspersed throughout the mess.  

 

The two had joked that Laura was only picking some of the clothes out for Stiles because she couldn’t buy them herself.  Laura had laughed and rolled her eyes at her but Stiles had seen how she had looked at some of the clothes when she thought no one could see her.  Stiles would take the brunt of whatever judgement Talia leveled at her--they were just clothes and after she had been borrowing Laura’s she wouldn’t be bothered if Laura dipped into the clothes she had bought for her.  

 

It took who knows how long for Laura to help Stiles fit all of her newly acquired wardrobe in the closest and the set of drawers that were in the room.  Before they had left the store, Laura and Tasha had demanded that Stiles change into something of their choosing which is how Stiles finds herself now in a pair of black, ripped jeans that were nearly skin tight, wearing a muted pink, loose deep v-neck tank top which dipped enough to show the lacy tops of her black bra and the straps just above it which ‘caged’ her boobs with black, heeled boots with lace overlaying the front of the shoe where it tied.  Her fingers, right wrist, and neck were adorned with both the jewelry that Laura and Natasha had picked out but also the gifts that were given to her by Stephon.  What rested most prominently however on her sternum between the silver links of the crystal pendants was the moonstone locket.  It’s metal was warmed by the temperature of Stiles’ skin but she could also feel her magic resonating deeply with the stone hanging suspended against her flesh.  

 

The announcement for dinner was what caught Laura and Stiles’ attention from where the were previously standing in front of her closet to admire how they had made everything fit.  It’s not that the closet was small just that the amount of clothes that were now shoved into it was huge.  Stiles shook her head slightly as Laura turned to her with a smug smile upon her lips.  

 

Chuckling softly and turning towards the door, Stiles began her descent towards the dinner table.  She had a feeling that things were going to get interesting again.

* * *

 

Dinner did not disappoint.  Talia had made some kind of pasta which was delicious and the entire family was gathered save Susan who was quite tired today due to her pregnancy.  Everyone else was gathered around the table.  

 

It was not as quiet a dinner as it had been last night after everything had been said and done but it also was not the usual loud dinner that Stiles had first been introduced to after her arrival in the past.  

 

Talia had not said anything yet about the clothes that Stiles was wearing but she could clearly see Laura’s eyes bouncing back and forth from Stiles to Talia as if she was waiting for some outburst.  Stiles hid her smirk.  She could understand bending the rules and having fun.  She wasn’t long for this world anyway, so why not go out having a bit of old fashioned fun?

 

“Thank you, Talia for insisting that I get some new clothes.  I would have hated to continue putting Laura out of hers.”

 

Stiles watched as Talia’s mouth tightened slightly before she nodded, “Of course, Stiles.  I hope you found clothes that were comfortable and not just whatever Laura may have pointed out?”

 

The dig was subtle but Stiles still heard it, it made her smile a little even, “Yes I did.  Frankly, a friend of mine had dragged me out to go shopping once.  We both regretted it in the aftermath to be quite honest.  I would say that this was perhaps the funnest time I’ve had as a pin up girl.”

 

Peter choked on his wine.  Stiles smirked slightly.  “Sorry.”

 

The mouth tightening was back but Talia smoothed out her expression soon enough and turned slightly to Laura.  “I hope that you found some clothing that would be appropriate for outings--specifically work attire should it be needed?”

 

Stiles jumped in just before Laura answered, “Laura helped me find quite a lot of clothes.  I’m sure there’s plenty of ‘appropriate’ attire in there amongst all the fun stuff.”

 

Stiles could see that Laura was trying hard to hide her burgeoning smile while Talia readjusted to have Stiles once more in her sights.  “I do admit that some of the clothes show more skin that I am used to and that my friend would just about keel over but I find that I quite enjoyed Laura’s and my trip into town.”

 

The rest of the table, as per usual it seemed, was watching the exchange with rapt attention.  Stiles could feel Peter’s glee however at his alpha sister being needled by the newcomer.  

 

“So Stiles,”  Peter’s voice slid into the silence, “Might I start off by saying that you look ravishing.”  Groans erupted from the rest of the table but he continued on, ignoring them, “But I do have an inquiry in regards to yesterday when you said something quite interesting.”

 

“Which part?  You have to be more specific.  I say quite a lot of interesting things--most people just tend to not be listening.”

 

Peter smirked at her as the two finally made eye contact.  “About a war.”  Peter ignored Talia’s hushed rebuke of his name to focus solely on Stiles.  

 

“What about it?”  Stiles challenged.

“Peter that is en--”

 

“You said that you were a killer?  That you’ve been fighting in a war for years?  That one has already come to our doorstep?”

 

“Yes.”  Both Peter and Stiles ignored Talia as she attempted to end the conversation.

 

“So that makes you a soldier?  And as one--”

 

“Peter!  Stop--”

 

“Am I willing to die again?  To save you and my pack?”

 

“And are you?”

 

“Peter!”  Talia finally stood and her right hand came slamming down on the table jerking everyone’s attention from the ping-pong game their eyes had previously been engaged in to look at her.  All except Peter and Stiles who were still locked in there own conversation.

 

“Yes.”

 

Silence.

 

Stiles finally looked away from Peter’s searching eyes to make contact with Talia’s Alpha red ones.  “Peter,”  She huffed, “You had no right.”  She looked from Stiles to Peter but Stiles continued to stare right at Talia.  

 

Stiles heard Peter settle more into his seat before he snarked back, “I have every right.  A war is coming or has come or whatever and we have someone here who knows every move the enemy will make.  Someone who had seen the outcome.”

 

“Peter, that is enough. You have both already had this discussion.”  Robert’s voice was deep and strong as he finally shook himself from his stupor.  

 

“Mmm conversations that pertain to me that happen without me.  You guys are really trying to remind me of my old pack.”  Everyone looked back at Stiles as she broke the face off that Talia was having with Peter.  “Don’t worry--my pack soon learned that those conversations didn’t work out well for anyone--least of all me.”  

 

The pack watched as Stiles absentmindedly ran her right hand along her throat where the layered scars that encircled it were.  There was no doubting what the outcome of one of those previous conversations had been--Stiles near death.  

 

A large clap erupted into the room and everyone’s attention jumped from Stiles’ neck to her face which had been wiped clean of any emotion and left blank.  “Peter is right,” She nodded in his direction.  “I have fought and killed and tortured and the same things have happened to me.  Blah, blah, blah.  A war is here at your doorstep.  I know the future so come with me if you want to live and all that jazz.”

 

“You are a child Stiles. And everything that you have revealed so far lends even more evidence that you should be removed from the dangers that you say are coming.”

 

At Talia’s tone which could have been concern if not for the patronizing undertone, Stiles’ feathers were ruffled.  She could feel the magic that had been humming restlessly under her skin begin to roil like ocean waves.  “I am not a child.  I have not been one for a long time.  My pack and I  _ were _ children.  Teenagers just trying to survive high school but then came the werewolves and the hunters and the kanimas and kitsunes and every other ‘monster’ that only existed in fairy tales.  My pack and I haven’t been children in years.  Just because you see me as younger than you does not mean that I have any less experience nor that I lose the right to be front and center in what is coming.”

 

Talia straightened, “You are a part of my pack and you will listen to your alpha as I command you.”

 

Stiles stood throwing her chair back with the motion, “You are  _ not  _ my alpha.  My alpha is dead and even if they were not, I still would not bow before you.  You may have the rest of your family lying prostrate before you awaiting your commands as they fall in the pecking order but you are  _ not  _ my alpha and I do not bow down before you.  I only bowed before my alpha as a show of respect and that was only in the company of another pack.  If my alpha never received an inch from me you can bet your high and mighty ass that you shall receive no such courtesy.”

 

Talia made a move to leap across the table at Stiles but Stiles simply lifted her right arm in response and suddenly Talia was thrown back into her chair and any and all movement within the room ceased.  All occupants found that they were bound to the chairs with some invisible force.  

 

Stiles’ eyes were blazing liquid gold as they matched Talia’s alpha red eyes.  Her right arm was outstretched and small tremors were shaking the room as Stiles attempted to control her thrashing magic.  It was begging for release, an outlet which she had yet to provide.  Shoving her magic to the back of her mind, she attempted to temper it as she lowered her voice.  “You are not my alpha Talia Hale.  I have only been as lenient towards you and showed you respect and kindness because my alpha spoke so highly of you.  I see now that perhaps they were too biased--too generous in their description of you.  There are two ways this relationship can continue.  You will come down off of that high horse that you have placed yourself upon as of the last few days and begin to work with me or you can stay there as I kick your ass across the front yard of your territory and then work with me bruised ego and all.  I will not tolerate someone demanding I buckle and bow and scrape for respect.  The last person who demanded it had the pleasure of their heart being ripped from their chest.”

 

Talia growled lowly as she struggled uselessly against her bindings.  “Is that a threat?”

 

“No.  I would not harm my alpha in such a way.”  Stiles’ magic began to pull her from the house urging her to leave.  “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be.  I’ll be back later to finish this discussion.”  On her way out of the door, Stiles summoned her leather jacket, throwing it on before she marched outside with the door closing with a schnick behind her and the magic holding the family in their chairs finally ceased.  All of the wolves present sat in a dead silence as they heard Stiles’ fast-paced heart slowly faded as she got further from the Hale House.  

 

“Well,”  Peter broke the silence, “that was fun.”


	10. Sorrow Found Me When I Was Young.   Sorrow Waited.   Sorrow Won.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' magic is pulling Stiles closer to something--a cliff in a way. The precipice she cannot avoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Yes, your eyes are NOT deceiving you--I am double posting just in time for Christmas. So Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all. 
> 
> Some quick notes:
> 
> WŁADYSŁAWA is Polish/Slavic in origin and it meant Glorious Ruler, Rules with Glory. It is pronounced vwah-di-SWAH-vah
> 
> Do widzenia is Polish for 'goodbye'.
> 
> I hope you enjoy these two new chapters and may I just say, I am so, so sorry. Comments and Kudos are always welcome-happy reading!

Standing in front of the closed hospital room door, Stiles couldn’t help but take several deep breaths in.  She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so nervous--so off kilter.  She could feel the noose of panic tightening around her making her breaths come shorter and faster, her throat beginning to close, the nausea in her stomach roiling even more unpleasantly, and her hands shaking uncontrollably.  

 

Taking even deeper breaths in through her mouth and letting them out through her mouth for a short time allowed Stiles to push her nervousness back enough to clear the fog that had previously settled over her.  

 

Now was not the time to ignore a problem until it goes away.  If Stiles adopted her usual way of dealing with unpleasant information at this instant, she knew that she would regret it.  She also knew that the problem before her would be the only problem that actually would disappear if she ignored it and the very idea that that was a possibility made her heart ache in her chest.  

 

Steeling herself, Stiles turn the door handle and the solid wood door swung open silently.  Stepping into the lit space, Stiles turned swiftly to shut the door just as quietly as it had opened before she turned to face the sole occupant.  

 

Stiles’ breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the lightly dozing woman who was connected to who knows how many machines in the hospital bed.  The woman looked just how she remembered--small in such a large bed, her usually bright pale skin almost translucent now allowing her veins to show through, her long, brown hair no longer flowing gracefully with loose curls.  It was now ratty and unkempt instead and it was drawn around her sunken face.  

 

Stiles took small, measured steps closer to the figure on the bed until she found herself sitting in the visitor’s chair on the left side of the bed.  Resting her hand on the sheets, Stiles found that the blue fabric just above the sheet was just as scratchy as she remembered while the white sheet just below it was cool and smooth under her fingertips.  

 

Unsure of her welcome just yet, Stiles resolved to sit silently and watch over the woman before she attempted to wake her.  She watched every inhale and subsequent exhale.  She listened to the steady beeping of the heart monitor that kept track of the constant beats from the chest she was watching so closely.  She watched as, like Stiles, the woman in bed could not remain still.  Her hand would twitch or her legs would move restlessly before suddenly stilling only to enact a movement in some other part of her body.  

 

Knowing her time was drawing to a close, Stiles mentally braced herself as she gathered the still woman’s right hand in between her own palms.  Using her left hand, Stiles touched the woman’s shoulder and gently shook her awake.

 

Stiles watched enraptured as the woman in the bed gave a sigh and began to open her eyes.  She watched as the woman attempted to blink the fog of sleep out of her eyes and she watched, trapped, as the woman’s eyes unerringly focused on her.  The woman’s eyes, despite just awakening, were sharp and a deep, swirling pattern of greenish-blue as they focused intently on Stiles’ face.  Stiles felt as though she couldn’t breathe when her mother’s eyes found hers.  She found herself bracing for the unknown.  One of the last memories she had of her mother seeing her was when she had been having one of her episodes.  Stiles’ ears still rang to this day in regards to her mother’s shouts that Stiles was trying to kill her.  The fact that the Nogitsune had drug out those memories once more still pained her intensely.  Despite her tensing, Stiles held her breath and when no shouts came from her mother’s lips, Stiles broke into a small, hopeful smile and breathed out, “Hi, mama.”

 

The woman on the bed looked over Stiles critically as though she was cataloguing Stiles’ appearance until she settled finally at looking directly into Stiles’ whiskey eyes.  Stiles hoped that her mother was here with her at the moment.  She hoped fervently, almost desperately that her mother was in a moment of clarity--it would be too painful if this moment was lost to her once more.  

 

Watching as the woman’s eyes seemed to focus even more and a soft, happy smile pulled at her lips while her hand clasped Stiles’ tightly, Stiles breathed out a relieved gust of breath and closed her eyes in relief as tears pressed against her closed lids, one making its slow descent down her warmed skin.  

 

“WŁADYSŁAWA.”  She sighed out in the open quiet of the room.  

 

It had been years since Stiles had heard her first name spoken.  Years since she had allowed the word to pass from someone’s mouth.  Stiles couldn’t help but allow a blinding smile to spill onto her lips, blinking quickly to remove the watery quality to her sight at hearing such a welcome sound once again.  “Hello.”  She breathed out once more.

 

“What’s wrong, WŁADYSŁAWA?”

 

“It’s just...so good to see you, mama.”

 

Stiles’ mom looked even closer at her before breaking the silence, “You’re so much older than I remember you.”

 

“Yes,”  Stiles paused briefly considering how to approach the topic and just how much to say. “Do you remember where you are and why you’re here, mama?”

 

The woman looked around herself before focusing once more on Stiles’ still form.  “Yes.  I’m in the hospital.  I’m sick.  Aren’t I?”

 

Tears gathered once more as Stiles nodded in response.

 

“And this...is a moment of clarity.”  Continued the soft, halting voice.

 

“Yes, mama.”

 

There was a short silence as Stiles listened intently to the steady beats being announced throughout the enclosed space of the room they were currently inhabiting.  

 

“You’re ten years old.  But yet you sit here before me older than you should be.  I can sense your magic, my sweet.”

 

Stiles’ head jerked up suddenly only to see a small, if saddened, smile upon her mother’s lips.  

 

“Yes, WŁADYSŁAWA, I know of magic.  We come from magic.  Remember all those stories I used to tell you?”  Stiles’ mother waited for Stiles to nod her head before continuing, “They were all true.  Every single one.”

 

“But, but then why didn’t you tell me before?  Before now?  Be-”

 

Stiles’ mother’s voice cut in, “You were too young.  And while we come from magic, there was no guarantee that you would have magic within yourself.  I, myself, do not.”

 

“Then how can you sense it within me?”

 

“Because I can feel it.  I can see it surrounding you--flowing through and around you.”

 

For once, Stiles was struck speechless.  Silences never comforted Stiles.  They made her antsy and uncomfortable.  They put her on edge and so Stiles had always endeavored to fill every silence she came across with mindless chatter.  She would spill her facts and opinions and sweeping declarations within the vast open space of silence to try and fill the empty spaces that the lack of words left behind.  

 

The last year especially had swiftly changed how Stiles dealt with silences.  They were still present and sometimes they were too large to bridge the gap over.  Over the years, the silences while still uncomfortable, had become a constant companion to her.  As the events of the last few months had closed around her, Stiles had finally learned that no matter how much one spoke or how loud they shouted into the void, that the empty space would remain there--shuttered and gaping, ill-fitting and unavoidable waiting for the moment it could slip beside her once more.

 

A hand cupping her cheek brought Stiles’ attention to her prone mother once more.  

 

“Oh, my poor WŁADYSŁAWA.”  Her mother’s voice was saddened as it wrapped around her name.  “What has happened to my sweet girl?”

 

Stiles didn’t respond, eyes shined with tears threatening to fall.  Not allowing the tears to fall, Stiles only looking deeply into her mother’s sunken eyes.  Deciding something as she looked into the swirling orbs, Stiles began to speak.  She began to weave the tale of the last fourteen years of her life.  She told her mother how her dad and her had gotten closer and how they were going to be okay after her mother’s passing.  Her mom nodded silently with a slight, serene smile upon her lips at that simple reassurance.  She told her how she and Scott started high school, how they got pulled into the world of the supernatural and how they joined a pack and spent the last four years defending the Beacon Hills territory from all comers.  

 

Stiles had tried to dance around the darker moments that both herself and her pack had gone through like what happened in Gerard’s basement that one awful night, her darker memories from her Nogitsune possession, the deaths of her friends, the multiple tortures she had undergone, the hard, impossible decisions she had to face, and finally her most recent death.  Despite her glossing over these parts, Stiles could tell that her mother was able to read between the lines.  

 

When she finished her tale with how she was sent back to protect and save her pack, Stiles could see that tears had started to flow from both her mother’s eyes and even her own.  Rather than say anything, rather than breach the silence that was swelling in that small room, Stiles only grasped her mother’s hand tighter and allowed her tears to dry upon her cheeks.  

 

The silence could have lasted minutes or hours or even days but eventually, the silence became too much, too loaded and it needed to be broken.  “It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

 

Stiles slowly lifted her head up towards her mother, eyes large as she whispered, “Yes.”

 

Stiles didn’t have to ask to what her mother was referring.  Her mother had to have known that this version of Stiles would not have come to see her unless something was coming.  

 

“Very soon.”

 

“You’ve come to say goodbye then, my sweet?”

 

Stiles nodded silently, her hand tightening even more around her mother’s fragile right hand.  

 

She could see that her mother was fading fast, her body tired despite her mind attempting to rebel, fighting to stay awake.

 

“Best do so now, I’m quite tired.”

 

“Yes, mama,”  Stiles snuffled, “I love you.”

 

“And I love you as well,” She smiled soft, but proud, “My sweet WŁADYSŁAWA.”  Claudia Stilinski appeared to be fighting off the exhaustion, her eyes blinking open and shut constantly until eventually, her eyes drifted shut once more with the ghost of a contented smile resting sweetly upon her pale, pink lips.

 

Stiles sat silently perched by her ailing mother’s bedside, knowing that soon she would have to vacate her spot.  She was content to hold her mother’s hand tight in her grasp and watch her chest rise and fall rhythmically.  Stiles had known that she would have given anything to be able to have a moment like this with her mother just once more.  Even knowing what was coming could not rip from Stiles the peace that she found within her mother’s presence again.  

 

Stiles sat beside her mother for as long as she could.  She had her senses extended out from the room so that she would be able to tell when exactly the footsteps of the younger Stiles began to make their way towards the room this Stiles was currently sitting in.  It didn’t take long before those very steps echoed in her ears.  Squeezing her mother’s hand once more, Stiles released the loose appendage and backed away towards the corner of the room unseen from the door.  She pulled her magic to the forefront allowing her to will herself to become invisible.  There were no shadows within the room to bend towards her but she was able to manipulate just enough of the space around her that no one would know she was there--not even if they knew what they were searching for.  

 

The door opened slowly inwards admitting a younger version of Stiles who quietly pushed her way into the brightly lit room.  

 

Stiles could admit that seeing a younger version of herself was odd but it was also something that was undoubtedly par for the course.  She couldn’t see herself as she was now in the girl that had walked into the room however.  The girl before her was innocent.  She had never watched her mother die--her friends, her pack, her father.  She had never had everything stripped away from her.  She had never had to be a child of war--to be made and unmade and shattered and put together with duct tape and safety pins.  No.  The girl before her was soft, unbroken.  She had not yet known the bitter taste of loss.  

 

Stiles could not bring herself to hate her younger self.  She could only feel a deep well of sadness and pity for her younger self.  Stiles knew that soon the younger version of herself would face the loss of their mother alone.  She would soon bear the weight of a dead mother upon her shoulder.  A lost father who turned to alcohol in his grief.  She would soon bear much more than she could imagine.  Unless Stiles could change the fate of the Hale Pack.  Nothing Stiles could do now would stop the death of their mother however.  That event was going to happen regardless of any of her actions.  The thought weighed on Stiles but perhaps not as heavily as she had imagined it would.  This one event would be the one that the two Stiles’ would have in common.   _There are worse things I suppose_.  

 

Stiles watched silent and hidden as the younger version of herself approached the bed quietly, sitting in the seat Stiles had herself recently vacated.  She said nothing as her younger self took their mother’s hand and began to whisper to her.  She watched from her perch as the younger Stiles told their mother tales of what had happened since she had last seen her.  She told her stories of the antics that Scott and her had gotten into.  She assured her mother that Stiles was behaving for her father--at least the best she could.  

 

Feeling a tug low in her body, Stiles sucked in a quiet breath.   _This was it_.  The younger Stiles continued talking in soothing tones to their mother unaware that the end was now here.  Older Stiles watched as passively as possible as the alarms started to blare from the direction of the machines connected to her mother.  She watched as her younger self jumped out of her chair, clutching her mother’s still hand and shouting for help and pleading with her mother to be alright.  Stiles’ heart clenched painfully at the frantic shouts that were coming from her younger self.  She watched as the door slammed open and hospital personnel funneled their way into the room with a crash cart and their various other materials.  She watched as her younger self struggled against the nurses as they attempted to drag her away from her mother’s side.  She watched as Stiles was beginning to be drug out of the room.  

 

Time appeared to slow as Stiles watched both her younger self being drug out of the room and her mother’s body lift upwards and fall as the nurses and doctors shocked her body in a feeble attempt to bring her back.  Stiles knew that the action was pointless--her mother was gone.  Stiles heard  when the doctors and nurses finally declared a stop.  She heard when the doctor issued time of death: _7:56 p.m._ The numbers resounding ominously with finality.  She heard the anguished scream that erupted from her younger self and she flinched despite knowing it was coming.  They had thought they had dragged her far enough away--they had been wrong.  

 

Stiles didn’t need to look outside the door to know that the previously fighting Stiles was collapsed onto her knees in the middle of the hallway.  The nurses who had been trying to take her away from the room standing around her unsure how to console a young girl who had heard her mother die.  A young girl who had been in the room alone with her when her heart had stopped for the final time.  Stiles didn’t need to look outside the door to know that eventually Mama McCall would come to gather up her younger self and take her where she could grieve without an audience.  

 

No, Stiles didn’t need to do any of that.  Instead, Stiles stood silently like a spectre hidden in the shadows of her mother’s room watching the nurses begin to clean up the disaster area surrounding her mother.  The nurses were quiet as well.  They were respectful.  They cleaned up anything on her mother first, covering her with the blanket and then moving on to the rest of the room.  The last thing they did was turn of the monitor that had been emitting a constant, single pulsing sound--the sound of a heart no longer beating.  

 

The nurses eventually left the room, closing the door silently behind them.  Stiles knew that someone would be by to clear the room for a new patient.  For now though, the room still belonged to her mother despite her no longer being there.  

 

Stiles kept herself hidden from view with her magic as she approached her mother once more.  She sat once more in the chair to the left of the bed and touched the back of her mother’s right hand.  Her mother’s skin wasn’t cold yet.  It was still warm giving it the illusion of life despite the lack of a beating heart.  Stiles knew that eventually her mother’s skin would turn cold.  Stiles knew this--she had experienced it often enough.  Stiles knew that in her timeline her mother had been dead for a long time but that fact didn’t matter at the moment.   Stiles had just witnessed her mother leave her again.  She had watched from beginning to end her mother’s passing.  

 

Sitting in the dark with her mother’s body, Stiles began to feel numbness seeping in.  Eventually the door to the room opened once more admitting two orderlies.  They maneuvered around her mother’s bed.  One positioned themselves at the foot and the other waited until the lower one had pulled the bed forward enough for them to slip behind the top of the bed.  

 

Stiles stood silently, removing her hand from the bed.  She followed at a sedate pace as the men wheeled her mother down the bustling hallway outsider her room.  She slotted herself invisibly into the elevator along with the orderlies and their charge.  She rode down to the morgue with them and exited alongside them until they eventually made it into the cold room in the hospital’s basement.  Stiles watched passively as the men carefully lifted her mother from her bed and placed her gently upon one of the tables towards the center of the room.  They left her hospital gown on and they covered her once more with a sheet and then with their task done, they wheeled the bed out of the room and began their trek towards where they were needed next.  

 

The room was quiet, empty, and cold.  Stiles stood there in the middle of the room staring at the table on which her mother was laying.  Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Stiles finally took three long steps towards her mother.  She rested her right palm on her mother’s left leg as she looked down at her mother’s face--a macabre imitation of slumber.  Stiles slowly drug her hand up from her mother’s leg as she stepped closer towards where her mother’s head was lying.  Stiles took in another breath of cool air and she bent towards her mother’s forehead where she placed a final parting kiss upon her brow and whispered with her eyes closed, “Do widzenia, mama.”

 

Standing straight, Stiles began to walk out of the room without looking behind her.

* * *

 

Stiles knew exactly where she was going.  There was a pull deep within her.  Her bones were aching, something low in her gut was dragging her towards the woods.  Stiles couldn’t fight the impulse to trek even deeper into the preserve and she found that she didn’t want to.  Whenever there was a death it always led back to that gods damned tree.  Why would this death be any different?  

 

The numbness that had been slowly taking over her in the hospital was fading.  As she got closer toward the heart of the preserve she could feel rage, an unending, primal rage sweeping through her.  She could feel it mingling with her feelings of helplessness and her razor sharp grief.

 

Memories started to assail her as she continued her course.  Stiles tried to shake them from her mind--she didn’t want whatever horrors her mind wanted to have her relive right now.  Dream Jackson was right--she had suffered enough.  She didn’t want the reminders, the ghosts, the memories.  

 

But when had anything answered Stiles’ prayers?  When had anything given two shits about what Stiles was going through and what she wanted?  The memories blew through her defenses crippling them and making her stumble into tree after tree as she continued to push through towards the Nemeton.  She could feel her palms bleed and her body stumble from steadfast tree to steadfast tree unable to stop her forward inertia.

 

*****

_Derek walks out of the bank with Erica’s long cold corpse grasped in his hands, her head resting in the crook of his neck.  Derek’s face is wrecked.  Howls echo in the eerily still night._

 

_*****_

_Derek’s holding the body again.  Boyd’s collapsed to the side, Derek’s hands are poised in the air unmoving as though he had been grasping onto Boyd before he fell.  Derek’s features are decimated.  He has tears in his eyes.  He’s shaking under Stiles’ hand as she places it on his right shoulder offering comfort where no amount of comfort could possibly fix what was coursing through him._

 

_*****_

_Stiles could feel the smirk settle on her stolen face as the Nogitsune watched Allison fall.  She could feel herself weakening.  She could hear Lydia’s shriek ring through her ears.  She could hear the broken howls rend the night air._

 

_*****_

_Stiles could only stare down at the scene below her--Ethan bawling on his brother’s chest as he cradled his slackened body in his arms.  Stiles could feel Lydia grasp onto her seeking comfort.  She could feel Lydia shaking as tears escaped her eyes but Stiles herself was too focused on the heart-wrenching scene taking place below._

 

**_“Look what you did, Stiles.  You killed him.  Just like you kill everyone.”_ **

 

_Stiles shook her head sharply.  The voice was supposed to be gone.  Why wasn’t it gone?_

 

_*****_

_Stiles felt herself skidding on the slick floor.  She rounded the corner.  She had to get to Liam. She heard the howl.  She needed to move faster.  She broke through the library doors and froze._

 

_“No.”  She breathed.  “No!”_

 

_Before her stood Kira with her back towards Stiles.  She could see Kira’s kitsune surrounding her body.  The figure was bigger than she had ever seen it.  She could see sparks flying off of the fox spirit making the shape shudder and expand._

 

_Stiles could also see Kira’s katana buried to the hilt in Liam’s chest.  She could hear Liam’s labored breathing.  She could hear the gurgling as Liam choked on his blood._

 

_When Kira finally turned towards Stiles, her eyes were crackling orange, glowing fiercely.  She removed her sword with a jerk and payed no attention to Liam crumpling behind her.  Lifting her left hand Kira shot out a bolt of electricity which Stiles only barely missed by diving to the side towards Liam.  When she raised her head once more, Kira was gone._

 

_Liam was her priority._

 

_She had to get to Liam._

 

_Liam was choking.  His breathing was labored and clutched at his chest.  Stiles could only lift his head up and curl him close into her chest.  She knew that the damage was too much to heal from--even with supernatural healing abilities.  Stiles could hear roars echo from outside the library room doors but she paid them no mind.  Liam was dying in her arms and she wouldn’t leave him there to die alone.  She shushed him and whispered sweet nothings in his ear, soothing him by running her fingers through his hair and holding him close.  Stiles held him as his heart gave out and she held onto him unmoving as the rest of the pack gathered around them in mourning.  She held him close and growled at anyone who attempted to come closer to one of her baby betas._

 

_No thought except the repeated refrain of “no” echoed throughout her mind.  The howls of grief from her pack didn’t move her even as they caused her ears to bleed._

 

_*****_

_“Stiles...please!  I can’t stop!  You have to.  Please.  You have to help me...please.”_

 

_Stiles sees her hands taking the katana and running it through her friend.  She sees herself catching Kira’s body in her shaking hands as she removes the blade.  She feels herself buckle under Kira’s weight and she feels as they both fall to the ground.  She can feel Kira’s hand grasping hers.  She can hear Kira’s words and see her features being obscured by the falling rain and their combined tears.  She can feel when Kira’s heart stops beating, when her hands fall from Stiles’._

 

_She can hear the anguished howls of her pack._

 

_*****_

_Cora’s corpse was lying just out of reach to the right of Stiles.  Derek’s anguished howls echoing through the empty forest.  Peter was walking back and forth between where Derek was chained to a tree and where Stiles was lying sprawled and bleeding on the ground, bound by magic snuffing iron cuffs._

 

_Stiles was stuck between disbelief and numb acceptance at the fact that Peter had stood before her and Derek and snapped his niece's neck as though it was nothing.  He didn’t even appear to react to Derek’s howls and shouts._

 

_They fell on deaf ears--as they always did._

 

_*****_

_“I thought you should say goodbye.”  Peter’s voice slides down Stiles’ back making her shiver and strain against her bonds after he had dragged her father into the clearing with the Nemeton._

 

_Stiles watched struggling as the red-black eyed witch brought down her athame slashing her father’s throat.  Stiles slackened as she saw the blood spurt from her father’s open wound.  She watched as her father’s body spasmed and finally fell still.  Stiles felt her bindings disintegrate as a scream erupted from her throat._

 

_Then she saw nothing but black._

 

_*****_

_“It’s an ambush!”_

 

_Stiles hears Chris’ shout through the phone.  She jumped up grasping the phone tightly even as she hears gunshots echoing through the phone from where she heard it fall.  She heard screams and growling and howling and even more gunshots._

 

_“Isaac!  Chris!”_

 

_No response._

 

_“Isaac!  Chris!  Please! Answer me!”_

 

_The silence of the other line is deafening until all that responds to Stiles’ pleas is a dial tone._

 

_The phone clattered as it fell to the concrete floor of the loft from where it had slipped from Stiles’ unmoving hand.  She didn’t hear the phone fall she only felt her legs collapse beneath her, her knees slamming into the unforgiving floor, her breaths stilling, and then speeding up as her eyes flood with tears._

 

_Stiles welcomed the blackness that followed._

 

_*****_

_Scott went off on his own after Chris and Isaac’s deaths to find their killers.  No one could find his body but everyone left in the pack could feel when his life was severed.  When Stiles heard the news she couldn’t cry--she could only feel the numbness flooding her system.  She sat staring ahead of her at nothing._

 

_No matter where they looked, they could not find Scott’s body.  They didn’t know what they would tell Mama McCall._

 

_*****_

_What’s left of the pack stumbles out of Stiles’ jeep only to step into the massacre awaiting them.  Malia and Lydia are sprawled uncaringly upon the dirty road.  They’re lying just out of reach of each other._

 

_Malia had been gutted.  Her insides still inside of her body but the two halves nearly separated in half.  She was undoubtedly cold with how much skin was open to the cold.  And with how much of her blood was lying on the ground.  Her short brown hair was surrounding her face.  Malia’s face was looking towards where Lydia had fallen._

 

_Their pools of blood had combined at some point making one indistinguishable from the other._

 

_Lydia is lying just out of reach of her with her left hand outstretched towards where Malia had fallen.  She has claws marks all over her now pale body.  Her hair, her bright strawberry-blonde hair, was splayed across the asphalt beneath her.  The ends were tangled and covered in the blood pooling under her.  Her right hand was resting on her abdomen as though she had tried to staunch the bleeding.  While Malia’s face was looking in Lydia’s direction, Lydia’s eyes were staring unseeingly up at the stars above her._

 

_Stiles couldn’t stand hearing the mournful howls surrounding her._

 

_*****_

_Stiles is the one to find Derek’s mangled body.  His breaths coming too shallow and too fast all at once.  She would say she was surprised that he sought her out while injured but that would be a lie.  Their relationship had shifted so much since they had first met.  Her younger self would never have believed that they would be as close as they are now._

 

_She catches Derek as he stumbles into her arms dragging her to the floor of her bedroom.  Tears fall from her eyes as she clutches Derek to her._

 

_“No.  No, no, no, no.  Don’t leave me!  Please, not you! Please--”_

 

_“I love you.”  Derek chokes out cutting off Stiles’ pleas.  His breaths are ragged-- gasping breathes from drowning lungs._

 

_Stiles can feel the tears streaming down her face.  Her breaths hiccuping, her nose running in response to her tears.  “I--,” She hiccuped.  “I love you too, Derek Hale.”_

 

_Derek smiled slightly at her, grimacing as he coughed sending blood arching into the air between them.  Stiles sobbed but Derek grasped her hand tightly. “I--I--I love you St-Stiles.”_

 

_He was fading fast.  She could feel his grip readjusting itself as he attempted to maintain some connection with her.  The comfort she was currently giving him was ephemeral, fading much like his life force.  She decided to give him something--a parting gift.  The answer to a question she had refused to answer for years.  She knew it would be something that he’d cherish.  She knew it’d make him smile._

 

 _“_ _WŁADYSŁAWA”_ _Stiles choked out.  “My real name...my real name,” she breathed out, “is_ _WŁADYSŁAWA._ _”_

 

 _Derek only smiled up at her lovingly, just as she thought.  His teeth stained with his blood but his eyes were brightened, happy.  “_ _WŁADYSŁAWA,_ _” He breathed._

 

_And then went still._

 

_Stiles couldn’t breathe.  “No.  No, no, no, no.”  She gathered Derek up tighter in her grasp--closer to her heart.   “ Don’t leave me!  Please, not you! Please.  Please...come back.”_

 

_“Please come back.  Derek, I love you.  Please...please.”_

 

_Please._

 

_*****_

_“Stiles.  You need to go.  They’re right behind us.  It’s too late for me.”_

 

_“No, Jax!  I am not leaving you here!  We are both getting out of here gods dammit!” Stiles shouted as she continued to drag Jackson through the trees of the preserve towards Deaton’s clinic._

 

_Jackson tried as hard as he could to get his feet under him but Stiles was carrying most of his weight.  His left arm was hanging limply across her shoulders while Stiles’ right arm was squeezing Jackson’s waist in an attempt to keep him upright and moving._

 

_Despite her best efforts, their pace was slow moving.  Jackson kept slipping in Stiles’ grip, his blood making him slide against her.  Through where they were connected Stiles could feel Jackson’s frantic heartbeat starting to slow which propelled her even faster around the trees and through the woods._

 

_She would not leave Jackson here.  She would not lose another person.  Not her best friend._

 

_“Stiles, please…”  Jackson’s words were breathy, failing._

 

_“No, Jax!  We’re going to make it.”  Stiles was determined as she readjusted her grip once more and bodily dragged Jackson even further._

 

_Stiles kept up a steady gait as she drug Jackson through the woods closer to Deaton.  He would help Jax.  He has to.  That thought alone propelled her to the clinic and into the front door, the bell jingling merrily.  “Deaton!”  Stiles shouts continuously and frantically as she drags Jackson passed the mountain ash gateway._

 

_Deaton appeared and his usually blank-faced expression evaporated as soon as he caught sight of Stiles and Jackson.  He hustled into the back room clearing his metal table off as Stiles came careening into the room with Jackson.  He helped her maneuver a failing Jackson onto his back._

 

_Stiles wasn’t sure how long passed nor how many bloody pieces of gauze she had handled until Deaton had finally placed his hands palm down upon the table Jackson was lying upon, his head bowed as he took deep breaths._

 

_“I’m sorry Stiles.  I’ve done all I can.” He looked up into Stiles’ face.  “I’m afraid the damage is too extensive.  Mr. Whittemore--”  Here, Deaton cuts himself off, looking away and down._

 

_Stiles shakes her head unwilling to believe Deaton’s words, “But… I dragged him here.  I-I-I got him here. You’d fix him.  You’d help him--you’d have to help him.”  Suddenly her voice took on a desperate edge, “ Deaton, please!  Please--you have-- you have to help him!”_

 

_Stiles’ breathes were large heaving gasps.  She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, her throat closing.  She could tell her vision was starting to become spotty, the tears escaping not helping at all.  Her hands were trembling when suddenly her right hand was grasped in a loose grip._

 

_“Hey.”  Rasped a voice._

 

_Looking down Stiles saw that Jackson had come to consciousness at some point and he was holding onto it with both hands.  Stiles could do nothing but grasp his slackened hand tightly in her own._

 

_“Jax.” She choked out._

 

_“Hey.  I’m here.  It’s okay.”  Jackson’s words were silent and slurring slightly.  “There’s something I want you to know, okay Stiles?”_

 

_Stiles couldn’t respond verbally so she only nodded towards Jackson.  She watched as he heaved a laboured breath._

 

_“Stiles, those deaths weren’t your fault.  And neither is mine.  Do you understand?”_

 

_Stiles shook her head trying to negate what he was saying while simultaneously dismissing the fact that Jackson was trying to say goodbye.  Jackson wouldn’t let her get away with that though--not his style.  He grasps Stiles’ hand tighter and shakes it with all of his strength._

 

 _“Stiles,” His tone brooked no argument, drawing her attention unerringly towards him once more, “Everything that has happened, all of the deaths, everything bad that has happened--_ ** _none_** **_of it is your fault.  Do you understand me?_** _”_

 

_“Jax--”_

 

_“No.  Stiles, do you understand me?”_

 

_Stiles sobbed, “Yes, Jax.  Yes, I understand.”_

 

_“Good...good.  That’s good.”  Jackson’s voice had gotten smaller and softer with each word he uttered._

 

_Unnoticed by the two, Deaton slipped out of the room to allow Stiles and Jackson their final moments in privacy._

 

_Stiles stood beside Jackson’s bedside holding his hand as his breaths came fewer and far between and she held it still with tears streaming down her face long after they had ended._

 

_*****_

 

Stiles was thrown suddenly out of her memories of her pack dying when she collided violently into the Nemeton stump.  The stump solid and the top smooth under her bloody palms.

 

She was freezing and her blood was boiling.  Her face was covered in tears and snot--both of which were still streaming.  Her face was hot despite the lower temperature of the night surrounding her.  

 

Stiles’ magic was surrounding her, visibly sparking off her skin, gathering around her like a maelstrom--called up by her roaring emotions and the visions of her pack being murdered one by one.  Stiles’ magic was out of control, it was contorting Stiles’ body and her vision--it was begging to be unleashed.  It was pushing at the frayed ends of her control.  

 

Usually Stiles would push down such a violent, all-encompassing storm of her magic but the last time she had felt this amount of emotion threatening to swallow her whole was after her father was murdered right before her eyes.  Watching that--her father flail and choke to death on his own blood had sent Stiles into some kind of grief induced state.  

 

She hadn’t known what she had done until Derek had told her after she had awoken days later.  Seeing her father die in front of her triggered something feral--something dark inside of her, something that howled and bayed for the blood of her enemies to whet her teeth--to soak her skin, staining it forever.  

 

Stiles’ scream didn’t only obliterate the magic dampening cuffs around her wrists, it had also leveled the trees of the preserve surrounding the Nemeton where they had all been held captive.  The magic that she released with her scream killed Peter instantly rendering him into a pile of ash and bone--there was no way he was coming back from that death.  

 

Stiles felt that same ache deep within her.  She felt the need to unleash her magic once more on the unsuspecting woods.  She needed to let the magic go before it swallowed her whole.  She needed to let the grief and anger run rampant--level the trees, lash out at something other than her mind.  Her magic was seething, roiling beneath her skin, boiling her blood, pushing and prodding viciously at her mental barriers.  Then suddenly the voice in the back of her mind asked _why fight it?_  And Stiles couldn’t really find a compelling enough reason why she should keep her magic leashed any longer.  

 

So she opened her mouth wide and she screamed.

* * *

 

Waves upon waves of raw power undulated over the small town of Beacon Hills.  Regular people going about their everyday lives didn’t notice the shaking beneath their feet.  But the members of the supernatural community felt the shaking and they felt the waves of magic as they burrowed their way into their chests.  

 

Magic users were thrown off their feet, bowled over by the amount of power overwhelming their senses--never had so much power been so concentrated.  Never had they felt such immense power.  Deaton himself had collapsed in his office knocking the stack of books on his desk’s edge to the ground along with his unresponsive limbs.

 

The members of the Hale Pack could feel the overlapping waves of magic--they could feel the tremors of the Earth below their feet.  They could feel the emotions--the raw grief and rage slam into their chests.  They had to duck down to the ground shielding their ears against the shrieks of pure anguish the likes of which they had never heard that grated against their eardrums.  

 

And in a large house in Beacon Hills, some distance away from the Hales, another smaller and shriller scream joined in with the shrieking announcing itself to the world.

* * *

 

As one, all of the able bodied Hale Pack members with the exceptions of a heavily pregnant Susan and younger Cora came barrelling towards the source of the anguished cries.  They arrived and stopped short at Deaton standing before them staring with astonishment painted upon his shell-shocked features.  

 

The pack was quick to look between Deaton and what had captured his attention so wholly only to be compelled into silence and awe like him at what they saw before them.  

 

Where the Nemeton stump had lived, situated deep in the dirt of the preserve with the roots gnarled and questing along the uneven ground, there now stood an even larger tree with it’s branches reaching far into the darkening sky.  

 

The power radiating from the Nemeton was like nothing it had been before.  The surrounding forest was partially bowed.  The trees still standing but straining against their roots.  It appeared as though they were trying to get as far from the Nemeton as they could.  Or that an explosion had occurred and they were holding on for dear life.  Either way, what one couldn’t deny was that the Nemeton stump had returned to its former glory, standing proud and larger than life above the gathered pack members.  

 

“It’s not possible.”  Deaton’s quiet, awestruck voice was the only sound to break into the silence that had befallen the group.

 

Removing his attention from the Nemeton, his family gathered around him and Deaton’s faint magical presence, Derek pushed his senses out trying to find the cause of the sudden regrowth of the magical tree--and the source of the screams that had caused him such pain when he heard them.  

 

He could sense the rage, the agony, the powerlessness that resounded throughout the small clearing he was standing in.  He could also smell the scent of petrichor and old books. _Stiles_.

 

“Stiles was here.”  Derek’s voice was faint but strong.

 

“It’s not possible.” Repeated Deaton once more.

 

“We should find Stiles.”  Derek’s voice was stronger.  No one was moving, too struck by the newly regenerated tree.  “Stiles was here and now she’s not.  We have to find her.”

 

Nods were given, heads shaken from their stupors and Laura and Peter broke off from the rest of the group to help Derek.  

 

The small group began their search.  The clearing itself was bathed, flooded with Stiles’ scent and chemo signals.  They found a path of her scent however leading away from the Nemeton and towards town.  They followed it until they landed at Beacon Hills Memorial.  Confused but persistent, the group followed her scent from the outside of the building until they landed themselves outside an empty hospital room and from their outside the doors of the mourgue.  Assuring themselves that they must be mistaken, they searched the room only to come up without a Stiles so they left the hospital as quietly as they had arrived and continued their search for their missing pack member.

 

The day passed slowly.  As did the day after that.  And the day after that.  

  
The days had turned into a week.  And one week had turned to two.  And two weeks to three before Stiles was seen by any of the Hale Pack again.  


	11. We Have Not Touched The Stars, Nor Are We Forgiven, Which Brings Us Back To The Hero's Shoulders And A Gentleness That Comes, Not From The Absence Of Violence, But Despite The Abundance Of It.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns and she's not alone. Some questions are answered and some fences silently mended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all. Hope this finds you well. My craziness is finally starting to wind down and I was able to knock out this chapter and post it. I hope you enjoy. The title is taken from Richard Siken's book of poetry called "Crush". This particular quote is from his final poem in the book: "Snow and Dirty Rain". If you haven't read this book, please take this as a recommendation. 
> 
> This is dedicated to Katycat612--thank you for all you do and have done.

The last three weeks had passed by slowly.  The Hale Pack had looked both high and low for any sign of where Stiles had gone.   Her scent had moved from their home to the hospital and to its end point at the Nemeton.  There was no sign that she had even left the clearing.  She seems to have vanished into thin air. 

 

Even Talia was aiding in the search despite their differences and their last encounter, Derek’s mom was one of the ones spearheading the search for Stiles.  Derek didn’t know why she suddenly felt as though it was her job to find Stiles but he was thankful nonetheless.  

 

Other than the frantic search for any news, nothing else changed too much.  Derek’s mom and dad went to work, Isaac’s paperwork was making it’s way through the legal system while he stayed at Deputy Stilinski’s house in the meanwhile, Laura went to work and came home to bug Derek about school, Cora was coming and going from her own schooling, and Derek continued to knock out all of his work and help Ms. Silver navigate the classroom during Mrs. Reynolds’ maternity leave.  

 

Ms. Silver was an odd character.  She often invited Derek to call her by her first name despite his obvious reluctance and first refusal to do so.  She usually let it go with a fluttery giggle and secretive smile.  Derek could admit that Ms. Silver was beautiful.  She really was--she was tall and lithe, tan and quite well endowed in regards to her chest. Which she definitely knew how to emphasize with her clothing.  They were still school appropriate but they appeared to skirt the line often enough.  Not that any of the other male students had problems with this fact.  She had a nice smile and her hair had the effect of a bright halo circling her head.  Ms. Silver is beautiful and she definitely knows it.  She seems to walk taller within the halls of the school, throwing constant smirks and secretive winks in every direction.  

 

Derek could see the appeal of someone with the looks that Ms. Silver had but he found no sway himself.  He felt no compulsion to sit snug beside her, feel her hands smooth along his skin, be in on her little smiles and winks, nor be front and center under her sharp blue eyes.  Despite not feeling the inclination, Derek seems to find himself constantly intermingled with her anyway.  She always asks him to stay behind for some help on something or other or asked him for advice and while Derek was completely understanding and willing to help her find her way within Mrs. Reynolds’ classroom, he often felt that Ms. Silver used that as an excuse to get close to him.  Derek noticed that Ms. Silver constantly finds reasons to put a hand on him--his shoulder, his upper back, she once booped his cheek.  She likes to single Derek out quite often which while nice in a way in regards to the classroom setting, it has quickly become disconcerting elsewhere.  

 

Derek had been subjected to multiple meetings after class after everyone had left, he had found himself in small quarters with Ms. Silver when she steps up close to him ostensibly to show him a problem she had come across or to share her confidences.  She had even gone so far as to make jokes and small compliments towards Derek which in any circumstance would be labeled as odd but most definitely inappropriate in their relationship as teacher/student.  While he was generally uncomfortable with the circumstances and situations, he often grinned and bore it.  She was only going to be here until the end of the school semester.  Mrs. Reynolds will be back soon and Derek would undoubtedly never have to see Ms. Silver again.  At least that was what Derek told himself even as Ms. Silver continues to get closer to him.  

 

The bell ringing brought Derek out of his inner thoughts and back into the classroom and the teacher whose actions had been the star of his thoughts.  He stood slowly, stretched and began to gather his things.

 

“Derek, would you mind staying behind.  I would like a word.”

 

Derek huffed silently and brought up a strained smile that he hoped looked normal.  “Sure Ms. Silver.”

 

Finishing up his tidying, Derek grabs his backpack and meanders up towards the desk at the front of the classroom.  

 

“Is everything alright Derek?  I’ve noticed that lately you’ve been distracted and it’s starting to worry me.”  Ms. Silver’s sharp blue eyes were scanning Derek’s face as she made her way around her desk to stand just in front of him.

 

“Yes Ms. Silver.  Everything is fine.  I just have some things going on at home that are on my mind right now.”  

 

Ms. Silver’s eyes shifted from her searching stare to a commiserating, sympathetic one as she appraised Derek.  Her face creased in a sad frown with her bottom lip pushed out in a pout as she stepped even closer to Derek to put her right hand on his bicep where she proceeded to slide it up and down his arm, stepping even closer to him.  “I’m so sorry about that Derek.  Is there anything I can do?”  She whispered in the small space between them, their faces so close that if they both leaned in their noses would be touching.  

 

Derek found his eyes stuck in a circuit going from her ice blue eyes that were so wide he could get lost in them to her pink, glistening lips.  He wanted to step closer to take the comfort she was offering but he also wanted to step back and away from her because of how uncomfortable she made him in the past.  Plus his wolf growled internally at him as the thought slipped in that the eyes should be a deep whiskey color.  

 

“Derek.”  His name was whispered as though it being said any louder would break the moment.  Her voice was soft and husky all at once.  It was inviting and seductive.  Her own eyes making the circuit that his had been as she moved closer into his space.  They were exchanging breaths they were so close and even that distance was slowly but surely shrinking.  

 

_ This is wrong _ .  Derek shakes his head slightly as the thought enters his mind, his wolf growling in warning.  He takes a small step back from Ms. Silver, breaking the embrace that had previously been taking place.  Him pulling away dislodged her small hand from the back of his neck.  He stiffened slightly.  He had been so caught up in what was happening that he had not even noticed that she had touched his neck.  No one but family or a lover, or his human friends who had no clue as to what he was, were supposed to get close enough to his neck, his throat--one of his most vulnerable spots.  

 

Something flashed across Ms. Silver’s face but whatever it had been was there one second and then gone the next.  Back to an understanding expression as though nothing had happened or had almost happened, Ms. Silver nodded her head once.  “If anything changes, know that I’m here.”  

 

While her offer seemed sincere, Derek noted that her eyes were a colder, icier blue than they had been previously.  He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up but he pushed those reactions to the back of his mind.  Nodding slightly to show he heard her words, Derek turned and walked out of the room in a fog.  

 

He walked on auto-pilot through the now silent halls not knowing how long had passed.  His mind was running in circles as he tried to decipher what had just happened and what had almost happened in that classroom.  Derek could sense that his wolf was pacing restlessly in the back of his mind.  He wanted to reach out and calm it but he didn’t know how.  He couldn’t understand what had set the wolf off in the first place.  

 

Seeing Laura’s camaro idling in front of the school brought Derek partially out of his state.  Trying to mentally shake the feelings and thoughts that were plaguing him, he opens the door and slides right in closing it behind him.  

 

He breathes in the scent of Laura and the ever present smell of leather that permeates the interior as he buckles himself in.  As he sinks into the cool leather, Derek notices that Laura is giving him odd glances as she sniffs the air.  He’s grateful that she doesn’t say anything about the odd scent that he can tell is overlaying his own base scent- the scent that even stands apart from the usual scents of teenage bodies covered in too many chemicals crammed together.  

 

Instead of commenting, Laura faces forward, rolls her shoulders back and puts the car in drive.  Finally on his way home with Laura, Derek relaxed.  He looked over at his sister to see that while she was calm, her shoulders had slumped and her hands held onto the steering wheel tightly.  

 

“No news?”  Derek’s voice broke into the silence.

 

“No.”  Laura answers hushed and resigned.  

 

She released her right hand from the steering wheel and pulled in roughly through her hair and a large sigh erupted out of her lips.  “I just--” She broke off.

 

Derek readjusted himself in his seat so he could see her better.  

 

“I just wish we knew what happened to her, you know?  I mean.  One second she was there and her and mom were at eachothers throats and then she was gone.  And now we can’t find her.”  

 

Derek didn’t know what to say that hadn’t already been said so he only nodded silently and waited for Laura to continue.  

 

“She wouldn’t have just disappeared, Derek.”  She hurried on as though Derek was going to interrupt her, “And I know what you’re going to say.  I don’t know Stiles well.  Or at all really so how would I know but I just do, okay?  She wouldn’t just leave.”

 

Laura had remained facing forward staring down the road as she spoke, not shifting her attention to Derek at all during her speech even when she was seemingly addressing him.  Her right hand had found it’s way once more to the steering wheel where it continued to grip it tightly, the leather creaking slightly under her grip.

 

Shuffling enough to move his left hand to rest upon her right shoulder, Derek admitted, “I know, Laura.  I don’t know how but I know.”

 

Derek looked forward to stare out of the windshield like his sister but he didn’t miss Laura’s brief look at him from the driver’s seat before she looked forward again.  Neither one spoke again as they continued home.  

* * *

 

Dinner had become an interesting affair after Stiles’ introduction into the family atmosphere but her absence also left an impact as well.  While the silences during dinner had been filled with tension due to not knowing what to say when Stiles was here, the dinners now were filled with all the words that no one wanted to say aloud with her absence hanging above them all.  

 

As everyone sat robotically eating the salad and spaghetti before them, Derek’s mother suddenly shot up as though something had sent a shock up her spine.  Suddenly, the dinner table had reached a new level of silence as they watched Talia’s eyes flare red, her hackles raised, her head shifting to the left sharply.  Without conscious thought, the rest of the pack rose from their seats awaiting their alpha’s orders.  

 

“Cora, run to Peter’s home and tell him someone has crossed the wards.  I sense wolves.  Tell him to remain with his mate and that you are to stay there. Go. Now.”  

 

Cora wasted no time and was out the door shortly after the words fell from Talia’s lips.  Talia began to stalk around the table and towards the door with the rest of the pack falling behind her in formation.  Robert was to her right and where Peter usually was was where Laura now stood with Derek taking his place on her left.  

 

The Hale Pack stood a few feet in front of the porch ready and waiting to meet whatever was coming towards them through the woods of the preserve.  They were not prepared however for what actually crept out of the trees.  If Derek could see his family at the moment, he would have no doubt that every single one of their jaws would be dropped like his currently is because coming out from the cover of the trees was Stiles wearing the same clothes she disappeared in with a young boy perched on her right hip while another boy who looked like the mirror image to the other was grasping tightly onto her left hand.  

 

Stiles’ face was straightforward but her expression was almost challenging as she looked towards where Derek and his family were gathered as she marched forward sedately with the two twin boys surrounding her.  She walked until she stopped about five feet from where the Hales were gathered.  

 

“Alpha Hale.”  Her head jerked down in a sloppy imitation of a nod as the two boys whined slightly and shifted away from the prying eyes of the pack before them.

 

“Stiles.”  Her name was rasped harshly causing the boy holding Stiles’ left hand to shrink closer to her body.  “What is the meaning of this?  Where have you been?”

 

“I’ll answer that in a min--”

 

“You will answer it now!” Talia cut her off.  “You have been gone three weeks and you suddenly show up here with two wolves and you expect my pack to allow you entry with no questions asked?”

 

Talia’s demanding tone had caused the two boys around Stiles to whimper in fear and attempt to make themselves one with Stiles’ body.  Turning her attentions away from Talia, essentially dismissing her and her demand, Stiles looked towards the two boys to shush them and reassure them with whispered words that even the Hale Pack could not hear despite how close they all were.

 

When the boy’s appeared calmer than they had been previously, Stiles faced Talia once more and looked her right in the eyes.  “Yes.  That is exactly what I expect.  Since that’s not how you want this to play out, how about you let me settle these boys in and then I will answer your questions.”

 

“You expect me to let two young unknown wolves into my own home?”

 

“Yes.  They are young and you have nothing to fear from them.  They are more terrified of you than you should be of them.  If it makes you feel any better, I will leave them in the room you have provided me and keep them there until you are ready to have them walk freely.”

 

Stiles appeared to grudgingly offer her compromise.  Derek looked at the frightened young boys and could see that what Stiles said was true.  They were terrified with their brown eyes large and coated with a fine mist that even he could see despite them attempting to hide their faces and make themselves smaller.  His stance which had been steadily relaxing once he realized it was Stiles fell away altogether.  He could sense that Laura’s stance was much the same and so was his father’s.  The only one not calmed by the current revelations was his mother.  

 

Talia was standing rigidly, staring at Stiles and alternating her, thankfully, no longer blazing red eyes between the two young boys and Stiles until finally she appeared to reluctantly relent.  

 

“Robert.”  Derek saw his father nod towards his alpha in response.  “Call Deaton.  Tell him we have two children for him to look at.”  At this point, Talia’s eyes focus intensely on Stiles.  “Am I wrong to assume that you will not leave their side until you are satisfied with their care?”

 

“No. I will not leave them.”  Her eyes flashing gold briefly in challenge.

 

Talia nodded in acquiescence.  “Very well.  Derek, go and tell Peter what’s happening.”

 

“Yes, Alpha.”

 

Derek walked away towards Uncle Peter and Aunt Susan’s home and he found himself wondering just what would happen now.

* * *

 

“How are they Deaton?”  Talia’s question echoed slightly in the hallway after Deaton had stepped out of Stiles’ room and closed the door behind himself.

 

Deaton took in a deep breath before responding.  “They are fine now.  The boys are omegas.  Scared, underfed, and I would bet abused by how often they flinched away from me when I moved too quickly.  There are no wounds to examine because they have already healed but there is no doubt in my mind that there were many.”

 

Talia nodded slightly.  She had had a feeling when they had continued to avoid her eyes as she followed Stiles into her home.  She had seen how protective Stiles had been over the young boys as well, shushing them when they whimpered and scent marking them constantly while glaring at Deaton when he had first frightened them with his sudden appearance.  

 

“Might I ask where our young Ms. Stilinski found her new charges?”

 

“You could ask but I do not have the answers yet.”  She admitted begrudgingly.  “Is Stiles ready for visitors?”

 

Deaton shook his head before Talia had even finished speaking.  “No.  She may be ready but the two young boys are not yet ready to part from her.  I would suggest giving them the night to settle into their new surroundings before pulling her away from them.  They appear to have latched on to her as their new alpha.”

 

Talia nodded slowly contemplating this new information.  “Stiles does seem to have a knack for finding strays.”

 

Deaton chuckled lowly, a rare show of emotion, “I suggest not making such a comment before her.  She did not take too kindly to it when I made a similar remark.”  

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“I mean that the boys flinched and then she flashed her eyes and bared her teeth at me.  She reacts as though she is their mother rather than just in the capacity of their alpha.  She perceived it as a slight and reacted accordingly.  All was well after I apologized.”  Here, Deaton paused briefly as though he was contemplating saying something else before he continued, “something I would suggest you do as well.”

 

“Excuse me?”  Talia’s voice was dead quiet.  She was curious as to what Deaton had to say as her advisor but the slight towards her as an alpha had her wolf’s hackles raised.

 

Deaton’s calm face gave nothing away as he looked at Talia.  “I am aware that I am crossing a line in telling you this but part of being your emissary is to counsel you.  In that capacity, I say that while I may not have known Ms. Stilinski long, I have, in the short amount of time I have spent with her, found that the only time she has reacted violently or with a show of magic is when something has overstepped some boundary or other.  You cannot deny that the timing is suspect: a vast explosion of magic that reawoke and regrew the Nemeton and then her disappearance for three weeks that culminated in her returning with two young and abused omega werewolves?”

 

Talia remained silent.  

 

He continued, “Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I just assumed that the only reason Ms. Stilinski would react so drastically was that something had happened.  My apologies Alpha Hale.  Now if that will be all, I must return to the clinic.”  

 

Deaton began his silent trek down the hall with his bag in hand.  

 

“Deaton.”  Pausing his walk, Deaton turned slightly in Talia’s direction and waited for her to continue.  Talia tilted her head in the direction of Stiles’ closed door, “Do you still believe that she is not a danger to myself and my pack?  My family?”

 

Without hesitation Deaton answers, “Yes, Talia.  I still believe that she is your ally.”  

 

With those parting words, Deaton continued his trek down the hall and down the stairs until he was out of the house.  Talia turned towards the closed door of Stiles’ room and whispered, “I hope you’re right.”

* * *

 

Stiles awoke the next morning to find her two young charges curled tightly around her, their faces slack with sleep and their mouths hanging open as soft snores slide out into the quiet of the morning.  

 

Taking care not to move too quickly to alert the boys to her awakening, Stiles crawls out from under the impromptu cuddle pile and make her way to the closet.  Grabbing blindly at some pants, a shirt and some undergarments, Stiles turns back to see that she didn’t wake the boys.  Seeing them still sleeping soundly, she pads towards the attached bathroom to shower--something she needs after so long without.  

 

As Stiles goes about her shower, she cannot help but think of the two boys lying asleep in her temporary bed.  Ethan and Aiden Broderick.  The last time she had seen the two boys, one had died because of the Nogitsune and the other she had shipped off.  His face blank but his eyes burning in determination.  

 

Stiles paused in her ministrations to press her left hand against her ribs and the numerous, intricate markings of black ink that was layered over them.  She feels that ache in her chest once more as she looks down at the symbols.  The black script was lilting and beautiful but a majority of it, while still beautiful in it’s own way was a darker black, seared into the surface of her flesh.  Stiles could remember so clearly the agony of the names burning themselves into her skin--the spell she cast to signify and symbolize when  one of her pack had died.  

 

When she had first gotten the ink, the pack--specifically Scott-- had made fun of her and her ‘nerdy’ ways.  Derek had looked at the writing and smiled slightly while he shook his head fondly.  Lydia was the only one who looked at the ink and nodded towards Stiles.  After Stiles had gotten over her crush on Lydia--or the image of her that Stiles had created, her and Stiles became the unstoppable research team of the Hale Pack.  Stiles knew that Lydia could easily read what was now carved into her pale flesh and she  _ understood _ .  She understood why she had gotten the names of her pack printed on her skin and why she had gotten them in Elvish.  Stiles could admit that perhaps that was a nod to her geeky, fantasy loving self but she would never regret having the symbols of her pack’s names painted on her forever.

 

Pushing those thoughts aside, Stiles finishes her shower, dries, and begins dressing for the day.  She finally sees what she had blindly grabbed from the closet: black skintight jeans, a black t-shirt that had cut outs in the front and the back in a v-neck pattern which would show off the black bra she was currently wearing and allow peaks of her pale skin.  Stiles combed her hair and left it to air dry as she grabbed the socks off the counter to walk back into her room.  

 

The boys were still sleeping and when Stiles looked towards the clock on the bedside table she saw that it was after 10.  Everyone who was in school would have been long gone.  Sending her senses out, Stiles can sense that there are two people inside the house.  She can sense that one is Talia and she can guess that the other is Peter.  

 

Opening her eyes, Stiles took in a deep breath before stepping towards the bed.  Bending down, Stiles rubbed her hands through the two boys’ hair, scent marking them.  She smiles softly as the two turn towards her in their sleep, pushing into her comforting presence.  Knowing she has to face the music, Stiles pulls back shushing the two when they begin to squirm until they settle once more.  

 

Stiles walks away from the bed picking up a pair of black boots on her way out.  She closes the door quietly behind her after one last glance towards the sleeping figures on her bed.  Stiles makes her way downstairs where after wandering for a moment, she finds both Talia and Peter Hale waiting for her in Talia’s office.  

 

“Stiles.” Talia’s voice is quiet.  More calm than Stiles had thought it would be.

 

“Talia.  Peter.”  Stiles nods to each, respectively.  

 

Peter smirks slightly in response, “Good to know you’re alive.”

 

With a small smile twisting her lips, Stiles sits in one of the straight backed chairs facing the duo.  “You have questions.”  

* * *

 

Talia watched Stiles for a moment before she nods with Peter voicing her thoughts, “Yes, we do.”

 

Stiles shrugs and leans back in her chair waiting.  “Shoot.”

 

“Where were you for three weeks?”  Talia wanted to know the answer to this question first and foremost.  She had many others but she needed to know the answer to this one.  

 

“Something happened here and I felt my magic pulling me somewhere else.  Once I realized what my magic was calling me to do, I left to remedy the situation.”

 

“That doesn’t answer the question.”  Peter’s voice was smooth as he spoke.

 

She nods towards him in acknowledgement, “True but it’s part of it.”

 

“The boys are in your pack, aren’t they?” Talia ventured.

 

Talia watched as Stiles’ eyes tightened briefly in pain.  “Yes.  They were.  Their names are Ethan and Aiden Broderick.  They were part of a pack that abused them--nearly killed them.  Treated them like slaves.  By the time I met them they were teenagers and they were no longer part of that pack.  The new pack they were a part of didn’t abuse them--physically at least.  Once everything was revealed about the pack they had fallen in with, they joined my pack and they stayed that way.”

 

Talia listened intently to what Stiles was saying, nodding along to the parts that she had put together herself.  She wanted to ask about the new pack that Ethan and Aiden had been a part of when she had met them as teenagers but she knew a touchy subject when she saw one.  After Stiles’ disappearance, Talia had been thinking back over her actions towards Stiles and the words they had exchanged.  She had realized that perhaps what Stiles had said to her had some truth in it and she had been trying to come to terms with that revelation.  While her wolf did not appreciate the challenge that Stiles’ words had invoked, Talia had realized that she needed to reconsider some of her actions.  She was trying to be better.  

 

She could hear the anger in Stiles’ voice as she had talked about Ethan and Aiden but she could also sense the sadness that she tried to mask.  

 

“Well the boys are here but I doubt that a controlling pack like the one you described would willingly let two whipping boys go.”  Peter’s assertion dropped off as he continued to watch Stiles.  The words had caused Talia to refocus on the room before her once more.  

 

“I asked nicely.”

 

At this response in all of its seriousness, Talia let out a derisive snort.  The sound caught the attention of both of the occupants in the room.  Peter tilted his head slightly in Talia’s direction but Stiles only looked in her direction and her lips pulled into a small smile, her eyes warming slightly.  Talia had yet to see an expression such as this cross Stiles’ face in regards to her.  The sight pulled at something within Talia before she asked for what really happened.

 

Stiles huffed out a deep breath, sitting up slightly from her previously slouched position.  “I did ask them nicely.  I told them I would take Ethan and Aiden off their hands.  Instead they brought the boys before me and attempted to beat them.  They did not heed my warnings.  I warned them once more and they laughed before they turned their attentions towards Ethan and Aiden.  I heard them whimper in fear and I snapped.”  Stiles turned to face Talia directly then, “I would not allow members of my pack to suffer for one moment longer.  I ripped those bastards apart and I convinced Ethan and Aiden to come with me.  I told them about you and your pack and I told them that they could have a family again.  That they’d never have to be afraid again.”

 

Stiles fell silent after this and sat before her and Peter awaiting their judgement.  Talia doubted that Peter would feel remorse for the pack that Stiles removed from the equation and she found herself unable to feel anything for them either except for perhaps satisfaction that justice had been served.  

 

Talia nodded taking in everything that Stiles both said and didn’t say.  “You have a penchant for finding lost souls, don’t you?”

 

Stiles offered no response but Talia didn’t expect one to begin with.  

 

“I have a question.”  Peter offered into the silence.  “What did you do to the Nemeton?  That was quite a punch of magic that you let out.”

 

Talia watched as the girl in front of her shifted before she answered.  “My magic had begun pulling me before I found the Nemeton. It started while we were having our...disagreement during dinner.  I followed it and I found myself where I needed to be.”

 

“The hospital or the morgue?”  The words were out of Talia’s mouth before she had thought them fully through.  

 

She saw a flinch that Stiles tried to suppress before she answered, “Both.”  

 

The revelation behind that admission hit Talia like a freight train.  That day had been the day that Deputy Stilinski’s wife Claudia had died.  She had heard about Claudia’s passing through the grapevine.  She had heard how the deputy had not been there for the time of his wife’s passing--he was consoling the dying victim of a large car wreck.  She had also heard that while John had not been there, his young daughter had been.  She had been in the room when her mother flatlined and she had heard when the doctors had called time of death.  Talia had heard it from one of the nurses that they would not soon be forgetting the shriek that had ricocheted off the hospital halls.  How had Talia not put it together until now?  How could she have been so blind?  It was right in front of her.  Stiles’ full name, her constantly evading the deputy’s sight?  Now that she was thinking about it, it was so obvious.

 

“It was your mother.  Your magic called you so you could say goodbye.”  There wasn’t even a question.

 

Something else that Talia had not yet seen since their meeting was Stiles become overcome with any true emotion besides the anger she had displayed towards Talia, her determination and protectiveness in regards to Isaac, and both the panic attacks that she had when she had been introduced to them and the one she nearly had when she was confronted for the first time with Peter.  Despite that and her good humor, Talia had not seen another outpouring of emotion from the girl before her.  Knowing that, it threw Talia for a moment when Stiles’ eyes glassed over with a sheen of tears.  Talia could see Stiles attempting to blink them away and while they didn’t disappear, they didn’t fall either.  

 

“Yes.  The first time I wasn’t able to say my goodbyes.  This time I was.”

 

Talia nodded silently and even Peter remained quiet.  The three sat in companionable silence each digesting everything that was said.  

 

Of course Peter was the one to break this silence first.  “What did you do to the Nemeton?”

 

Shaking herself, Stiles sits up straight once more only this time facing Peter.  “I didn’t mean to regrow the Nemeton.  After I said my goodbyes, I began walking back here but I found myself--as always, drawn to the Nemeton and on my way there, my grief...grew.  It sharpened and I could feel it shredding my control.  I finally just let it out and you all saw what the repercussions of that was.”

 

The three fell into silence again until Stiles stiffened.  “Ethan and Aiden are awake and looking for me.”  She stood up slowly, collecting her boots and socks from where she had left them by the side of the chair.  “If you would excuse me.”

 

“Of course.”  Talia watched the young woman before her walk towards the door.  Before Stiles could step out of the office however, Talia called her name causing her to turn.  “They are welcome in my home and in my pack.  Please tell them that.”

 

A large smile lit up Stiles’ face as she nodded, “Thank you, Talia.” and left with the door closing silently behind her.


	12. Holy Water Cannot Help You Now.  A Thousand Armies Couldn't Keep Me Out.  I Don't Want Your Money.  I Don't Want Your Crown.  See I've Come To Burn Your Kingdom Down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are settling in and a calmness seems to be in the air. Nothing good can last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you are all well! Here we are with Chapter 12. I've started and restarted this a time or two and now we're here. I hope you enjoy. I believe this is the longest chapter I have posted to date at 30 solid pages. Woot woot. Th title is from the song Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine. Please enjoy and as always, please leave kudos or comments if the mood strikes you:)
> 
> Casting Notices:  
> Sheriff Noah Alastair- Ato Essandoh *I started this before I learned the Sheriff's name is Noah, now the previous Sheriff is*  
> Principal Thomas- Christian Taylor (as seen on show)  
> Detective Tara Graeme- Mieko Hillman (as seen on show)  
> Glamour- Katherine McNamara  
> Braedan Graham- Meagan Tandy (as seen on show, I couldn't find a last name so I created one, she will appear later.)

Stiles’ magic rolled, undulated, under her flesh as she walked up the stairs back towards the boys. It was content, moving like waves crashing leisurely along the shore. If her magic was one of the many wolves she had cared for, she would dare say that it was purring right at this moment. There were no current threats to either her charges or herself and Talia had accepted Stiles’ words and actions without an argument, without the judgement that Stiles would have undoubtedly felt earlier in their tenuous partnership.

Perhaps Stiles and Talia will be able to further cement their relationship if this trend continues. Stiles is not naive enough to believe that the road ahead will be less fraught with tension or that it will be easy now that the two appear to have found settled ground at the moment. The two had sat as equals, neither glaring or spitting at one another as they attempted to hold their own, stand above the other with their ‘I-know-best’ attitude. The previous struggles she had had against Talia had tired her out. Not because the magic she exhibited was strenuous but instead because she could sense that her actions would be misconstrued. She would know that Derek would be upset with her, at least a little, if he saw her as she was now--needling his mother, his Alpha rather than helping her. Stiles knows that the camaraderie her and Derek shared was unlike the relationship they would have shared if their pack had been traditional so she knows that the leniency he had showed her, the familiarity, would not be offered by his Alpha mother, no matter how much she saw herself as nontraditional. Thinking about Derek and how upset he would be dimmed her contentment so she shook the thoughts from her head and refocused on the happiness she could feel emanating from within herself.

As is usual in her life, Stiles can feel something coming upon the horizon, threatening the small bout of happiness she did find. Her instincts were alerting her to the fact that this moment could only be the calm before the storm. And when have her instincts ever steered her wrong? Well there were a few times to be quite honest but none of those times had to do with the supernatural after her and Scott’s messy fall into it. How many times had she actually been wrong after that initial clusterfuck of a situation? The answer: none.

Not wanting to further taint the feelings of near contentment she was currently feeling, Stiles pushed the prickling of her instincts back for the moment. Whatever comes will come. Right now though, she has two boys she is quite anxious to see--especially with the news she is carrying right at this moment. Stopping before the closed door to her temporary room, Stiles shakes out her shoulders and takes in a deep breath. _Here we go_.

* * *

 

Ethan and Aiden were over the moon (Ha werewolves, over the moon! _Shut up, Stiles_.) after Stiles had told them what Talia had said when they met earlier. They were excited to stay with a pack that would care for them, one that would protect them. One that would not treat them like they were lesser just because of their age or their status of omega.

While they were excited and happy about these revelations, Stiles could also see that they were wary of their new, precarious situation. While they were welcomed in the pack, it was still a new group of people that they had never been around. They were still a group of strangers and the last group they had joined had not been what they had hoped. Stiles understood their wariness, their flinches when someone spoke too loud or moved too fast, their fear both of the possibilities of what could happen and the fear that if this does turn out to be everything they want, the fear of it disappearing, leaving them clutching at the remnants of their tattered dreams.

The boys felt most comfortable around Susan so far. Stiles would hypothesize that they felt safer around her because of the hormones and scents she was sending out due to her pregnancy. The boys quickly felt drawn to her and even slightly protective. Susan enjoyed the company of Ethan and Aiden immensely even if they were the ones to jump up to grab her things so that she wouldn’t have to move, actions she had previously snapped at Peter for. She took it all gracefully and with plenty of scent marking for the two boys.

Talia and Peter had both made their introductions and then made themselves scarce to make the boys more comfortable. Both had soft voices and moved both slowly and with plenty of noise so they would not startle the boys. They eventually disappeared into the bowels of the house as the hours past by and the boys became more comfortable in their new environment. Ethan and Aiden also met Cora. Their interactions both tense and playful at the same time. When they first caught sight of each other, their eyes had flashed at one another, Ethan and Aiden on one side and Cora on the other. Low growls erupting from their chests, not threatening ones, more curious and playful which makes a slight fond smile find itself on Stiles’ face as she watches on. This was so different from how the three had interacted in Stiles’ timeline that there’s a low tug at her heart as she watches them move with and around each other now.

As she watches the people moving around her and senses the rest of the Hale Pack moving about their lives through her magic, her powers flare within her slightly as the feeling of being uncomfortable pours through her. Maintaining her calm facade so as not to let anyone notice anything, she traces back the feeling and locates where it was coming from. Derek.

An alarm rings in the back of Stiles’ mind allowing her attention to return to the reality in front of her. Her magic was now rumbling under her skin as Stiles began to put the pieces together. Derek is at the high school sitting in one of his courses. Nothing should have sent that emotion splintering through Derek. Especially nothing that should have flooded into the bond and through Stiles. All of a sudden, the pieces fall in the exact order she needs.

Maintaining her calm outward facade, Stiles stands and makes her way towards Susan. The blonde turns before Stiles when she hears her approach. Her smile large but dimming slightly in question, her eyebrow quirked.

“There’s something I have to do. Would you mind watching the boys please?”

“Of course. Is everything okay, Stiles?” She asked, her voice just as quiet.

“Yes. I just need to go upstairs really quick and then I’ll be heading out on an errand.” Stiles kept her attention on the blonde before her, looking deeply into her blue eyes, willing her to see something that she refused to say.

When Susan nodded, her face troubled, Stiles began to walk out of the living room and towards the stairwell but before she cleared the room Stiles turned towards the room and its occupants once more. “Susan,” she called.

The blonde turned to face Stiles again while the three kids continued their staring contest. “It may be loud here later. Just a heads up.” 

Susan’s blue eyes widened imperceptibly before her face cleared of all emotions save for the strained smile she was now wearing. “Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles nodded and walked out of the room, making her way up the stairs and into her room. She walked into the closet and grabbed the beige, beaten up bag Stiles had carried with her on her way back to the Hale property with Ethan and Aiden in tow. She had glamored it so that no one would question what was in the bag. Ethan and Aiden didn’t question the bag despite them having seen it and going so far to even place anything interesting they found on their journey with Stiles.

Opening the bag Stiles grabbed the handful of light brown folders and after locating a black bag, she stuffed them into it. After shoving the bag closed, Stiles stashed the first bag back in its hiding place before she began to walk amongst the clothes that Laura had gotten her. She grabbed a collection of black clothes that would fit with her coming ruse, picking up a pair of black high heels to complete the look despite the dark look she gave them.

Stiles changed quickly and gathered her bag. She would wait to cast the final pieces of magic she needed to make her ruse more convincing. No need to give more away than necessary. Stiles walked towards the front of her room making sure the door is closed. Tugging the bag on to her right shoulder, Stiles’ eyes flare and she is suddenly in an empty alley near the Sheriff’s station.

Using her magic to ensure no one will be coming around, Stiles sees that the closest person is someone going into one of the stores down the way and that the only company she had within the confines of her alley were those of the rats feasting on the remains of the trash. Stiles straightened up and allowed her eyes to flash, picturing within her mind everything she would need to enable her plan to go off without a hitch. Stiles could feel her magic settle over her, settling in her bones. A thought settling through her has her questioning exactly what she was going to do but she shook it off quickly, silencing the dissenting opinion. No turning back now.

* * *

 

Stiles adjusted the black blazer and smoothed her palms down the black dress slacks currently adorning her figure. She could feel her tattoos resonate slightly as her palms coasted above where they were hidden beneath the constricting fabric. She shook her head making the large bright red curls fall into her face ensuring that the glamour was still holding. Closing her eyes to ensure the rest of the glamour was airtight, she reopened them and used her right hand to heft the bag hanging loosely from her right shoulder up higher and began her stride towards the sheriff’s department.

The air inside the department was slightly warmer than the Fall weather outside where the distant rumbling of thunder promised a deep storm. Stiles’ could feel the electricity in the air and her magic twisted within her, seeking out the release the storm could bring. Shaking her head minutely, Stiles continued forward where the familiar officer stood manning the desk.

Seeing Tara once again, this time whole and alive allowed an unknown coil in her chest to loosen. Tara was staring straight at Stiles, her quick green eyes cataloging the outfit she was wearing, searching for weapons, noticing the badge hanging from the chain around her neck, and the backpack that she could undoubtedly see falling slightly from Stiles’ shoulder. Tara stood straight back behind the front desk, comfortable yet ready for action should it be needed.

Before Stiles could open her mouth Tara jumped in, “Hello. I’m Deputy Graeme. You here for the human sex trafficking case? I thought that was all wrapped up on this end.” While the last sentence was posed as a statement, Stiles could hear the weary question beneath the words. Shaking her head at the deputy, Stiles readjusted her stance to set Tara at ease, “Hello Deputy Graeme. And no, I’m not here for that case. I did hear about that though. My name is Braeden and I am a U.S. Marshal here in regards to another case. May I talk with the sheriff if he is in?”

Tara scanned Stiles’ form once more before she lifted the receiver to make her call. Not wanting to be rude, Stiles shifted her attention away to take in the station. This station was whole, neither shot up nor exploded, not littered with the dead and dying like Stiles remembered it being so often in her past. _Nothing’s changed_ , she mused. There was still a large coffee stain against the wall by the door where it was said a young deputy had tripped and spilt all of the orders he had been sent out to get. There were the scrape marks from the old tech being dragged out the front door to exchange it for the new equipment when her father was still a ‘lowly’ deputy within the station. The magazines on the table were still the crappy second hand ones like the ones at the dentist’s office and the chairs in the waiting room were still those uncomfortable metal ones.

A throat clearing from in front of her and to the left brought her back from her own cataloguing and her attention was brought to the current Sheriff. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with short black hair shorn close to his head with a beard and mustache surrounding his lips. His eyes were a warm brown and he had a kind face despite the apparent tiredness that lined around his eyes and the set position of his mouth.

Stiles felt a pang, she was to blame for how tired the officers of the station undoubtedly were. Despite the small amount of guilt bubbling in her gut, she knew she would go through with her actions again. She may not have known just how much she would have unearthed by saving Alicia Boyd but she’d never regret it. “Officer Braedan? Is there a last name for that? My name is Sheriff Noah Alastair. I’ve heard you’re here for a case.”

“Yes, that’s correct and it’s Graham. Hello Sheriff. There’s a case I’ve been following for quite some time and my investigation has led me here to your town. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We can head to my office,” Turning towards where Tara was looking between the two, “thank you Tara. How is everything? Have you heard from Stilinski?”

Stiles watched Tara look down briefly at the mention of Stiles’ father before she regrouped. Deputy Watts and Clark are out dealing with domestic. Zeller, Tony, and Beckett are out and patrolling through town. I’ve called the Stilinski residence and Stiles answered. She said her father was sleeping at the moment. I said I would stop by after shift.”

Sheriff Alastair nodded once, deeply, a troubled look on his solemn face. He took in a deep breath, “Thank you Tara. We’ll be in my office.”

Stiles followed the Sheriff quietly a pace or two behind him until they made it to his office. He held the door open for Stiles to walk through first and then sealed it behind himself once he’d crossed the threshold. Stiles observed the office. The paint was the same only the picture frames along the desk and on the wall were different from her father’s when he resided in this office. Refocusing on the man sat before her behind the desk, Stiles shuffled forward to pull the bag from her back to resettle it in her lap.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. As I said outside, there’s a case I’ve been following for years. It’s spanned multiple states and there have been multiple victims, mass casualties.” Stiles began to ramble as she started to pull out various case files from her bag.

The Sheriff took the proffered folders to better go through them. As he did, Stiles continued to spin her tale. “There are six families that have been murdered but their deaths have been ruled as accidents. However, each so-called accident has a few things in common with the other. I was able to work up a profile of the perpetrator. To be honest, this whole case I’m bringing to you is no longer active due to the ‘accidental’ nature of the deaths but when I told my boss about the connection, she allowed me to continue looking during my time off and to approach her if I found solid evidence. So here I am.”

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Stiles watched as the Sheriff combed through the case files she brought. She knew what he was seeing, nearly empty official reports but loads of witness statements and personal notes made by Stiles as she followed her through-line through her own investigations.

“While I do see some of the similarities between your cases, I am wondering about both the profile you appear to have crafted and why this all brought you here to my town.”

“Of course,” Stiles nodded, “there are several witnesses in every state that talk about the high school aged male of the family being seen in frequent company with a female teacher. The relationship appeared to become more entangled at least a handful of months before suddenly the boy and his family would die under mysterious circumstances that always wound up being ruled accidental. Every time the family would be home and the entire family would die in the fire. And then the teacher would up and disappear--never to be seen again. Each witness has described the teacher differently so she must shift her appearance before she starts anywhere new. There are some things however that remain similar. This woman always has the first name Kate even if her last name changes and she loves to have different variations on the word ‘silver’. I’ve come to your town because I’ve set up searches and one of the new teachers at your high school hits a lot of the criteria. A colleague of mine who is aware of my interest of the case also passed along news of anonymous sources about a few individuals who could fit the criteria. Following all of these leads, I found myself narrowed down to one final match. This one is professor at your local high school.”

At this point Stiles removes the final folder from her bag before she sets it upon the floor beside her and hands them to the Sheriff who takes them immediately. “The alias she is using here is Kate Silver. Digging into her background, I found that her real name is actually Kate Argent. Her family originated from France but found themselves settled here some years ago before they left under unknown circumstances. The last name Argent is French for silver. Ms. Silver is currently a substitute english teacher at Beacon Hills High School. I have received anonymous tips that Ms. Silver has shown quite an interest in a Derek Hale. It appears her attentions are not returned however which may be why she has remained in town so long.”

Stiles watched the Sheriff shift in his seat in front of her but she continued, taking in a deep breath, “I know that this is a lot to take in and my evidence may seem circumstantial but I have a gut feeling here. Everything lines up. I have even researched Argent’s movements and found that where she goes, the tragedies of the ‘accidents’ line up. I believe that the reason she didn’t hide her aliases well was both to taunt us and because she undoubtedly figured that once that murders were ruled as accidents, everyone would stop looking. She was right.” A short pause. “I believe without a shadow of a doubt that she is guilty.”

The Sheriff lifts his eyes up and peers directly into Stiles’ eyes, staying silent for several minutes.“If what you say is true, why have you come here instead of arresting her yourself? I get the feeling that you’ve been searching years for this. Why stop now?”

“I have searched for this woman for years, you’re right. I’ve lost sleep and so much time and...frankly, I’ve lost a hell of a lot. I can’t tell you why I’m giving you this collar because I don’t know. Perhaps I can’t bring myself to cross the finish line.” Stiles’ hands raised slightly and then collapsed into her lap helplessly as she slumped slightly in her chair. She watched the Sheriff as he searched Stiles’ face. She did not know what he was looking for but she figured he found it once he straightened himself up in his chair.

“All of the evidence you’ve found is compelling but you’re right. It’s flimsy. If we pick her up now, she could fairly easily weasel herself out of this. What’s to say that all of the time and work you’ve put into this won’t be for nothing?”

Stiles nodded, “We need a confession.”

“Yes, and how exactly do you plan on getting one? Despite the lack of hiding her aliases, she was smart enough for each fire inspector to rule the house fires as accidents.”

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve.” Stiles grabbed her bag and stood up as the Sheriff stood from behind his desk. “Do we have a deal?” Stiles’ extended her hand towards the Sheriff. He immediately took her hand and shook it, squeezing warmly but before she could pull her hand away, he looked at Stiles once more.

“What tipped you off to these fires not being accidents?”

Stiles paused here, “If they were accidents, why did they happen during the only time the entire family would be home? Including the extended family members?”

* * *

 

Derek was sitting in his English class listening halfheartedly as Ms. Silver stood before the class finishing up the analyzation of Joseph Conrad’s _Heart of Darkness_. Ms. Silver was particularly focused on the final words of the novel because she kept repeating them and looking around the room waiting for someone to undoubtedly shout out an answer.

Sitting pliantly in his chair Derek watched as Kate opened her mouth once more, “The offing was barred by a black bank of clouds and the tranquil waterway, leading to the uttermost ends of the earth flowed somber under an overcast sky, seemed to lead into the heart of an immense darkness.” What does this mean? What is Joseph Conrad attempting to say through these words? I know you guys have some idea. No answer is wrong.”

Silence was the answer to her continued query. Eventually, she huffed greatly and stood up straight, “Joseph Conrad throughout this work is saying that a story changes by who tells it. The entire work is a study of what evil is. He both questions for himself and towards his readers, what makes a person evil. What is ‘evil’? So now the question comes to you. What is evil? What makes something evil?”

Before a hand could raise, Principal Thomas knocked on the door. “Excuse me Ms. Silver but I need you to step outside please.” Derek could sense that Principal Thomas was nervous, his scent gave him away and even if it hadn’t, Derek can both scent and see the sweat starting to accumulate at the sides of his forehead to slowly trickle down his face.

“Is everything alright Principal Thomas?”

“Yes, Ms. Silver. Your presence is just needed in the hall.”

Ms. Silver's eyes were sharp and her posture straight and although she attempted to hide it, Derek could sense the apprehension exuding from her skin. Derek could also see her left hand smoothing over her left thigh before some tension left her frame. Her smile was obviously forced as she turned to face the students once more before uttering her excuses. She walked stiffly towards the door and it closed with a whisper.

All of the students around Derek broke out into frantic, gossiping whisper shouts and Derek decided to use his enhanced hearing to determine what exactly was going on outside the door. Suddenly there was a shout and a dull thud against the wall beside the door which sent the entire class to their feet and towards the secondary door. Some eager students spilled out of the classroom to get a better view. Derek felt no need to push his way to the front but he found himself shuffled out of the door regardless.

What he saw left his jaw dropped and his eyes widened. His substitute teacher had been pushed into the wall beside the door by the Sheriff. He watched without blinking as the Sheriff wrangled Ms. Silver into a pair of silver handcuffs and as a deputy bent down to pick up a fallen knife. Derek wasn’t sure where the knife came from but a flash to a moment ago when Ms. Silver had swiped her hand down her thigh came bursting to life before his eyes. Reeling from this, he belatedly heard what the Sheriff was saying. A long list of assaults and murders came spilling from the Sheriff’s mouth and he heard his name thrown in the mix which jarred him back into reality as the deputy began to take steps towards him. Not forceful, stalking steps but calm and reassuring ones designed to lull him into security. He turned his bewildered eyes towards the woman approaching him and went along with her without a word after she coaxed him to walk with her. He caught words of calling his mother, that everything was going to be okay, that he wasn’t in trouble but what truly captured his attention and pulled him from the fog currently consuming his thoughts was that he could sense the petrichor and old book combination that he automatically associated with Stiles. What the hell is going on? 

The question ran circles around his head all throughout the ride to the station and continued to do so after he had walked through the doors to sit in the waiting room. Here in the station, Stiles’ scent was fresher, sharper. She had spent time here…no, she was still here. He can hear her slightly faster heartbeat. He tried to seek her out from where he was sat. The deputy, Tara, had told him to stay in the waiting room until his mother had arrived. They wanted to wait to do anything until either his mother or father was present. He had arrived in the car after the one escorting Ms. Silver and she had long since been put wherever she was currently residing before he even made it through the front doors.

He didn’t know what the hell was going on. Everything was going fine, everything was going normally until Ms. Silver’s class. Even her weird staring and odd moments of touching him along the shoulder. That thought resonated slightly in his confused state. Was that what was going on? Did someone tell someone else about Ms. Silver’s creepy behaviour around Derek? Is that why they were both here? But no, that didn’t make sense. The Sheriff said something about assaults and murders. That didn’t happen here. That didn’t happen to him. What the hell is going on? Why is Stiles here? What does she have to do with any of this?

His thoughts were broken as the door to the outside world was flung open as his mother and father came barreling through. He watched as their noses flared and their widened eyes finally focused on him where he was seated curled into himself on the uncomfortable metal chair he was put into. They rushed towards him and he could sense their control was frayed yet began to reassert itself once they were close enough to him to ensure he was unharmed.

They both grabbed him up in a back breaking hug and began to subtly scent him. “Derek are you alright?” His father’s voice was calm and deep as he squeezed Derek’s right shoulder from his position in the group hug.

“I don’t understand what’s going on right now. We were in class and suddenly the Sheriff was there and Ms. Silver was arrested and now both her and me were brought here. What’s going on?”

Talia broke in, “I don’t know Derek but we’ll find out, okay?” She pulled back enough to look deeply into Derek’s eyes until he nodded at her and then she pulled Derek back to her, allowing him to rest against her.

Derek had no doubts that his parents were having a full fledged conversation above him with just their eyes. Instead of feeling comforted or angry at this, he only felt more confused. Were they lying? Did they know?

His train of thought was broken once more as suddenly the Sheriff approached the trio and cleared his throat. Derek knew that his parents had sensed the Sheriff’s approach but had decided against turning before he made his presence obvious. They turned as a group to face the tall man.

“I’m sorry that this has disrupted your day. And I know that this must be confusing for all of you but--”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Sheriff, but what is the meaning of this? Is our son alright? And what is this about an arrested teacher?”

Talia’s voice was commanding and quiet, unsettling but Derek watched the Sheriff straighten his back and look straight into Talia’s eyes. “Please follow me to my office. This is a conversation best had in privacy.”

Derek watched both his mother and father’s jaws clenched at being made to wait for information but Derek watched as his father rubbed his free hand along his mother’s back and she relaxed a fraction before nodding her head decisively and following behind the Sheriff towards his office.

Once they were sat with Talia in the right chair closest to the door with his father stood behind her chair and Derek in the chair on the left with the door closed and blinds drawn, did the Sheriff fall slightly into his chair. The trio watched as the man huffed out a deep breath and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck and down his face to his beard which he rubbed for a moment, the scratchiness loud in the silence. Derek caught the look that his mother sent him once she caught Stiles’ scent. Her eyes were blazing slightly, her left eyebrow quirked in question. Derek had no answers for her so only set his eyes towards the Sheriff.

“There was a case brought to me a little over an hour ago. The specifics aren’t necessary to get into. The only thing that applies to what just happened is that a U.S. Marshal has been tracking a criminal which led them here. The person in question is Ms. Silver. In reality, that is her alias. Her real name is Kate Argent.” At the name Derek senses his parents straighten sharply, a sub-vocal growl being emitted from both of their chests. The Sheriff seemed to be unaware of the change that took place because his eyes were looking at the folders strewn across his desk, lost in thought as he continued to string his words together, “The Marshal has a compelling case that Ms. Argent has been traveling around the U.S. under various aliases as a teacher who gets close to young high school males and begins a sexual relationship with them which ends with the young male and his entire family perishing in house fires.”

Derek could see his parents becoming more and more tense as the Sheriff continued to talk. His mother’s eyes were flashing red at the edges, the blazing color flickering to life around her darker irises. He could see her barely hidden claws digging into the armrest of her chair.

“The Marshal received an anonymous tip that led her both here and to Derek. Someone reported that Ms. Argent was getting rather close to Derek and they were concerned. All of this led the Marshal to come here.” At this point, Derek watched the Sheriff shift his attention solely to him. “Now Derek, I understand that this may be hard to talk about and I want you to feel safe. We wanted to wait to talk to you to bring in your parents for your comfort and protection but if you feel like you cannot talk with them in the room, I can ask them to step out.”

Sensing that his parents were holding their breaths in the anticipation of his answer. Wanting to get this out of the way as quickly as possible, Derek responded that it was fine for them to stay. When the words left his lips, every adult in the room sank a little where they were stationed. It seems that the Sheriff, while ready to ask Derek’s parents to leave if it would make Derek more comfortable, was relieved to not have to do so. Derek could understand that.

The Sheriff leaned back in his chair briefly seemingly to organize his thoughts, then he leaned forward slightly and looked directly at Derek. “Okay, son, can you tell me about the interactions between the woman previously known as Ms. Silver and yourself? There is no judgement here and you are not in trouble. You are safe here. She can’t get to you here. I would like to stress that.”

Derek took in the Sheriff’s words, breathed in deep and began to recount every interaction that the two had shared leaving nothing out. He wasn’t sure when but some time during his tale his parents moved closer to him, his mother putting her left hand on his knee and his father standing behind yet between Derek and his mother’s chairs leaving one on Derek’s right shoulder.

* * *

 

Stiles walked into the interrogation room shortly after Kate was placed there, handcuffed to the center of the table where a bar was stuck fast to the rest of the metal. She closed the door silently behind her, paying more attention to the woman held fast before her. Kate watched her back, measuring her and summing her up. Kate must have come to the eventual conclusion that the woman before her was not a threat. She was wrong. Stiles wasn’t going to correct her just yet though.

_Let’s Play._

“Hello Kate. My name is Braedan Graham. I am a U.S. Marshal and I’ve been looking for you for a long time.”

“Well, you’re a little slow if you’re only finding me now.”

Stile smiled indulgently. “Well, I will admit that there were certain obstacles in my way.”  Sitting in the chair across from Kate, Stiles leaned back and crossed her arms. “But, we are here now.”

Kate’s eyes flashed, “Yes. Here we are.” She shifted, “What kind of obstacles are we talking about? Uptight boss? Unhealthy obsession? You said you’ve been searching for me for years,” She paused, her head tilting, “What do you think I’ve done?”

Stiles watched Kate settle into a more comfortable position, her eyes shining and a secret smile propped on her lips. Taking a moment to look at the woman who ruined Derek’s life in the eyes, the two sat in amused silence. Finally becoming bored of the lack of answers to her queries, Kate rolls her eyes, “Are you actually going to talk to me or are we just here for an odd date? I have English classes to teach. It was quite rude of you and your officers to arrest me in the halls of the high school. The teachers will all be talking about this. I hope you’re secure in your job because I’m going to have your balls in a vice.”

Chuckling slightly, Stiles adjusted her position slightly to drop the stack of files she had walked in with on the table between them. “I don’t think you’re going to have a problem with the English classes anymore. You’re not leaving this building except in another pair of shiny cuffs.”

“I’ve done nothing wrong. All you’ve found is that I am currently teaching under an assumed name. The Sheriff was telling some tall tales when he was reading me my Miranda Rights. I haven’t murdered or assaulted anyone. This would be a slam dunk case for me leaving here pretty damn soon. Speaking of that, can I have my phone call?”

“You’ve already made your phone call. Nice try though.”

Kate shrugged easily, “Worth a shot. He’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Oh you mean your father? Gerard Argent?”

She tried to hide it but Kate was surprised when Stiles guessed who would be coming to her rescue. Seeing her opening, Stiles started to press. “Yes, I know all about Gerard Argent. You’re both two peas in a pod. Hunting together, covering up each other's messes, no questions asked. Must have been difficult having a hard ass for a father who only cared for you when you began to lose your morals.”

Kate twitched hard, “You know nothing about him. He’s--”

Stiles cut across her, “He’s a murderer. A monster. I mean who takes people, tortures them mercilessly, and then cuts them in half with a broadsword? Talk about crazy. And how he keeps ranting on and on about keeping the world safe from werewolves. Geez, you really didn’t have too far to fall.”

Jerking as upright as she could, Kate tried to lunge towards Stiles’ leaned position. “Touched a nerve, did I?” Stiles could no longer hide her smirk.

“Who are you?” Kate growled.

“I wonder what he had to say to convince you to sleep with young teenage boys? To seduce them and murder them and their families. Did he even have to whisper in your ear for long or were you all too happy to jump into the muck for _dear old daddy_?”

Kate began to jerk her wrist from where it was connected to the cuffs. “You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Stiles threw out her arms in an all encompassing manner, “Then why don’t you correct me?”

At that invitation, Stiles watched as Kate stilled, shook herself and then in a complete 180, sat herself primly upon the edge of her seat to face Stiles straight on. “You’re not a regular cop. I don’t even think you’re the U.S. Marshal that you claim to be. Who are you?”

Stiles avoided the question and shot back one of her own. “Were you hiding in the high school under your alias to seduce and begin a sexual relationship with Derek Hale in order to murder him and his family in a house fire?”

“Why would I do that? Derek is such a nice boy. Mrs. Reynolds recommended him as the perfect student to help me get into the rhythm of things at Beacon Hills High. Why would I hurt him?”

“You always did have fun playing the innocent card. No one cared enough to look underneath to see the crazy bitch. Well, that’s not completely true--your dad saw it. Must have made him real happy having another person just as crazy as him.”

“Excuse you?”

Ignoring her response entirely, Stiles jumped back, “Did you come to Beacon Hills to kill the Hale family?”

Kate threw her shoulders back in a shrug as much as her cuffed hands would allow her. “Why would I do that? I’ve never even met them!”

“It’s quite pointless to keep pretending Kate. It’s just you and me here.”

Apparently having enough of the back and forth between them, Kate suddenly lunged forward and across the table until her cuffs clanged against the metal bar. “I’ll stop pretending when you do. Who are you?”

Studying the woman before her, Stiles found herself similarly bored with their current impasse. Ensuring that the spell she had quietly placed on the interrogation room to deafen any outside noise was in place, Stiles looked Kate straight in the eyes and let them flare molten gold-orange as she crooked her wrist sending Kate into a shrill scream as her body began to crumple into itself.

The shrieking began to grate on her ears so Stiles stopped the spell and watched as Kate nearly collapsed in her chair in the wake of its after effects. “What,” she gasped, “the hell are you?”

“I’m sorry about the seizure you just had. I hope you’re alright.” Stiles’ bored tone droned throughout the room as she sat comfortably before a writhing Kate. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Did you come here to seduce Derek Hale and murder his entire family?"

Kate was panting, attempting to catch her breath, unscramble her thoughts. “Someone had to have heard my screams. They’ll come running. You’re fucked.”

Stiles chuckled slowly, “No one heard anything. Like I said earlier, it’s just you and me here Katie.”

“Don’t,” she growled breathlessly, “call me that.”

“Sorry Katherine, forgot you hated that nickname.” Stiles got up to walk leisurely around the room ignoring Kate’s eye twitch, “Did you come to Beacon Hills with the plan to seduce Derek Hale and murder his family via a house fire?”

“What are you? You’re not a werewolf and you’re sure as hell not a hunter. A hunter wouldn’t lower themselves by becoming the filth we hunt.”

At that comment Stiles began to laugh. It was not a hearty or pleasant sound. It was cold and grating. A distant part of Stiles shuddered at the very sound, reminiscent of the Nogitsune as it was. Stiles could feel the temperature of the room lower slightly as her mocking continued, she couldn’t stop it. She couldn’t believe the hypocrisy albeit unknown as this point. Stiles turned away from the wall she was facing to see Kate standing as straight as she could with the table between them, eyeing Stiles warily.

“Forgive my laughter but that is the funniest line of bullshit I have heard in a long time. You wouldn’t _lower yourselves_.” Stiles chuckled darkly for a moment. “It isn’t considered _lowering yourself_ to sleep with the very people you hunt? The so-called monsters?”

“It is a means to an end!” Kate spat out.

Stiles jumped on her shout, “So you admit to being a hypocrite? You admit to sleeping with underage boys for the sole reason of wiping out their family line?”

Kate slammed her hands into the table, “No! I am not a hypocrite! I am doing what I have to. I am protecting humanity!”

Boredom sprung to life inside Stiles with the little display before her so Stiles’ eyes flared once more settling Kate’s nerves alight. The shrieking was even louder, the spasms rocking her body that much more. After a longer time increment, Stiles pulled back her power and watched dispassionately as Kate collapsed where she had stood.

Stiles stepped towards the table to grab the files and open them to the family pictures inside each flap. She then proceeded to drop them with a loud slam on the table, “Decker, Novak, Weller, Specter, Johnson, Chandler. These are the last names of the six families you brutally murdered. You seduced their underage sons, began intimate relationships with them and then made sure they would all be home so you could burn their house down around them on the full moon.”

The huddled form on the ground shuddered violently throughout Stiles’ speech. Stiles had no problem waiting Kate out. “That’s how it feels to have about 80 milliamps of electricity running through your veins. I’ll just keep having the voltage go up and the second your heart gives out, I’ll bring you back just to do it again.”

Kate lay panting trying to string together her words. “What did I do to you? Was one of those _families_ yours?”

“No they weren’t but I felt it was time they got justice. It sickened me that you got away with it for so long. Now you won’t be able to keep going. The other families will be safe.”

Kate laughed mockingly, “And what exactly are you going to do to protect them? There’s more of us than there are of you! And the moment you kill me, my family is going to swarm this town and finish what I started!”

“Now you see,” Stiles began as she rounded her chair to sit, “that’s where you’re wrong. Even if your family did come, I would take them down one by one. Gerard and I have some unfinished business anyway.”

A triumphant gleam lit her eye as Kate raised her head in Stiles’ direction, “So my father did something to you and you’re using me as bait to get to him. That’s pathetic. And you’re going to fail.”

“Actually, I’m interested in both of you. You’re who I want most. Your father will just be a bonus. And if you truly want to talk about what’s pathetic, let’s discuss how much of a lousy hunter you must be if you have to seduce underage boys just to get to their families. Gods, what an embarrassment you must be for you father.”

Kate attempted to stand, or perhaps lunge but found herself crumbled on the ground once more, her body still shaking with the remnants of Stiles’ magic coursing through her veins. Stiles stared down dispassionately as Kate lay shuddering at her feet. She felt a deep shaft of enjoyment at the picture before her. The pleasure she was deriving from torturing Kate paralleled so well with the pleasure the Nogitsune had experienced when she caused her pain and chaos. The very thought that she was feeling the oily smears of the Nogitsune’s handiwork through her current state left Stiles feeling cold. She shoved it viciously back.

_“What happened to the old you Stiles? The one against torturing or murdering someone? Where did my best friend go?”_

_“She died. Don’t worry, you missed that event too.”_

Stiles violently threw the words from her past back where they belonged, locked in the farthest corner of her mind. She didn’t need to hear Scott’s accusations anymore. She doesn’t have anything to apologize for. She did what she needed to do then and she’s doing exactly what she needs to now. _She deserves it_ , a voice scrapes loudly within her mind. _Yes_.

“I’m going to ask one more time. There’s plenty of evidence tying you to the other six murders. Now, did you come to Beacon Hills with the plan to seduce Derek Hale and murder him and his family? And keep in mind, I’m quite enjoying the sound of your screams.”

Kate sneered from her fallen position and tugged fruitlessly at her cuffed hands. Stiles continued, “There will undoubtedly be enough evidence to convict you on conspiracy to commit murder in regards to the Hale family. I’m sure once we bring in Adrian Harris, he’ll start singing like a canary about the undetectable accelerant you asked him to work on for you.”

The mention of Harris brought Kate’s struggling to a stop. “How did you know about that?”

“I know about a hell of a lot more than that. If I wasn’t so invested in taking down you and your father personally, I would love to give the families of your victims the closure they’re missing. Maybe I will after this. Least I could do really.” Stiles’ musings were cut short as her mind switched back to her original query. “Now, are you going to answer my question or am I going to have you screaming and drooling on the floor again?”

Even though Kate tried to hide it, a vicious shudder tore through her frame which caused Stiles to smirk. “Is that a yes?”

Kate remained stubbornly silent so Stiles smiled sweetly at her and allowed her eyes to flare sending Kate to the ground once more. Her screams were blending inside Stiles’ mind once more with the screams of the Nogitsune’s victims. Stiles could feel her mind falling into the chaos once more so she cut off the current running it’s course through Kate’s veins and all of the screams dropped off to static and panting.

_“I’m not a monster.” “No, but you are human and what could be more monstrous than that?”_

The voices from Stiles’ past were filtering through her thoughts once more, straining to pull her down into the rabbit hole of her thoughts. She just needed more time. She could feel her magic roiling beneath her skin, snapping and snarling despite her release of it upon Kate.

_“All magic has a price Stiles. That is what you learn as a Druid. It can be a marvelous gift, an honor, but it can also be a shackle. Never forget that.”  “Was that what stopped you from saving the Hale Pack, Deaton?”_

_“It is okay to be angry Stiles. It is okay to seek revenge when you are wronged and to strike out when you have been harmed but there is **never** any reason to be intentionally cruel.” “What if cruelty is all they understand?” “That’s not what my daughter believes.” “How would you know? You’re not even real.”_

Stiles stood forcefully and looked balefully down at the cowering woman beneath her. “Did you come to Beacon Hills to seduce Derek Hale and murder the Hale Pack?” She shouted, her eyes flaring.

“YES!”

The force of Kate’s shouted confession took Stiles’ breath away. Her golden eyes receded back to their glamoured green and her frame collapsed from its strained position.

“Yes!” Kate spat, “I murdered those six packs of _animals_. Those packs of _abominations_. Those god-damned werewolves. I slept with their children and oh how _eager_ those little high school boys were to get the attention of someone like me! How _easily_ they fell for my act. How quick they were to tell me _everything_ about their lives and their families. How _easy_ it was to convince them I _loved_ them. They were just so _god-damned eager_ to be with me that they betrayed their families. It was _pathetic_. They deserved the deaths they got.”

“Did you watch them burn Kate? Listen to their screams? Their howls as they fought to get out?”

Her eyes flashed madly, “Yes. And when they realized they couldn’t get out because they were trapped...they got quiet until eventually the flames began to consume them. I watched the flames for as long as I could until I had to go before I got caught.”

“And Derek?” Stiles continued, her voice devoid of emotion.

Kate readjusted herself, “I don’t know what was up with the kid. I tried nearly everything. He’s such a hard nut to crack. He’s straight--I know that much from what I’ve picked up but everything I tried seemed to send him farther away from me. He was a challenge. I would have enjoyed breaking him.”

“And how would you have done that, Kate?”

“The best way to break someone is to take away their hope. You can beat and torture someone and they might be able to make it through that one way or another. Maybe even get the upperhand. But you know what the best thing to do to break a person is?”

“What would you have done Kate?”

A sick smile spread on her flushed face. “When I finally had Derek in my clutches, I would have toyed with him mercilessly. Romeo and Juliet the shit out of him until he wouldn’t know which way was up or down. I’d tell him the truth and we’d talk about how we couldn’t be together but he’d be so in love with me he’d keep me a secret from his family and once I had him right where I wanted him, I would have trapped his family in their home and burned them alive. With him as the sole survivor of course.” Kate paused here and shifted her head from one side to the other as though she was weighing something. “And here’s where I can’t decide. I either would have been right there with him as his world fell apart to hear his screams and howls and then I’d kill him _or_ I’d let him go, he’d feel that his entire family was murdered, run to his burning home and then run back to me so devastated that he’d seek comfort from ‘the love of his life’ only to find out that I was the one who orchestrated the whole thing. Maybe even leave him alive then to suffer.”

“You would have left him alive so he would feel guilty. So he’d think it was his fault being in love with you. That his love got his entire family murdered?”

Kate’s eyes twinkled, “Oooh that is quite lovely. Exquisite almost.”

“There’s only one problem with that.” Stiles broke in.

“And what’s that?”

Stiles leaned forward, “I stopped you this time.”

“What do you mean ‘this time’?” Kate’s eyes narrowed.

“Exactly what I said. You really are pathetic Kate. You and your father.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. My dad and I are not pathetic, we are not insignificant. You may be able to remove me and you may think you can get rid of my dad but the Argent line is strong. You won’t make it out of this town alive.” Kate grinned up at Stiles triumphantly, her eyes wild.

“You and your dad were easy enough to remove the first time around. This time should be even easier--less complications,” Stiles mused. "And once you are both removed or eliminated--I’m honestly not picky--then Chris, Victoria and I can undoubtedly come to some agreement.”

Stiles can see Kate struggling against her words and the cuffs keeping her attached to the table. She refocused her attention towards the blonde and slowly stood only to lean closer to Kate, “And about that last part. That’s where you’re wrong Katie-- I’m already dead.”

* * *

 

A scream suddenly broke through the air making everyone in the Sheriff’s office jump. The Sheriff immediately jumped out of his chair and rushed out of his office towards the interrogation rooms.

Talia looked outside quick enough to see the officer that was manning the front desk go running after the Sheriff. Talia found herself following the two running figures until she came to a stop outside of the only open door. Looking inside, Talia found herself blanching. There was a blonde woman lying on her side, seizing. Her shrieks were muffled but Talia could hear them rattling around her throat. Looking away from the fallen woman and both the Sheriff and his deputy attempting to immobilize the woman, Talia saw that the room was completely empty save the folders left spread out upon the metal table that the blonde was hanging on to by a pair of silver cuffs.

Talia was about to turn away to leave the two officers to their task when her nose caught the scent she had detected earlier. Stiles was here. In this station, and definitely in this room. And the scent was recent, it was pressing itself into the walls. Something else present was the static tingling at the back of her throat that she had gotten the few times Stiles had used her magic in her presence.

As suddenly as the shrieking had begun, it ended and the shuddering woman was left a twitching pile of collapsed parts. Talia had no doubt that the woman before her was the same woman the Sheriff had been talking about. The same one that the Marshal had brought to him. Talia was not a dumb woman. She knows that Stiles was the woman who had brought the case to the Sheriff’s attention. And she could sense why but she refused to go down the road before her. She could not accept where that path led. She could not. She would not.

Talia was pulled from her thoughts when a team of paramedics rushed passed her and into the room relieving the Sheriff and his deputy of their crouched positions over the woman. She watched as they assessed her, put her on the stretcher and hurried her out the door.

She turned her attention back to the Sheriff and his deputy as they made their way towards where she was standing. “Is she going to be alright?” Talia asked, her voice quiet.

Sheriff Alastair rubbed his hand against the back of his neck and down his face to scratch through his beard before he sighed, “They think so.” He turned suddenly towards his deputy, “Tara, where is that Marshal? She was here and wanted the first crack at Ms. Argent. Where is she?”

The deputy, Tara, looked at the Sheriff in confusion, “I thought she was with you? She never came back out the front.”

The two exchanged confused glances before they immediately began moving towards another room beside the interrogation rooms. Talia followed a few steps behind them and saw that they had walked into a room full of computer monitors. She watched as Tara sat at the computer and chose the frame that was dedicated to the interrogation room that the Kate woman had been in previously. Tara rewound the footage and turned the volume up.

Talia jerked back slightly as Stiles’ voice filtered through the recording. She was thrown because while the voice belonged to Stiles, the woman in the video looked nothing like her. The woman in the cell was tall like Stiles but she was dressed conservatively in a black pantsuit, her badge displayed proudly from the chain around her throat. She had long, red hair that was styled in large curls. While the appearance was different, Talia watched the way the woman in the video moved, her movements were calm, restrained. They reminded Talia of a predator stalking their prey before they attacked. A comparison that Talia would definitely draw in regards to Stiles.

She watched the two women on the tape volley barbs back and forth when suddenly the word ‘werewolves’ made it’s way into the room. Everyone present stiffened but only the two officers exchanged curious looks towards one another. The three returned their attention to the video before them, Talia more rigid than she previously was. The audio and video were perfectly clear but still the three people were thrown when suddenly Kate would straighten up and begin seizing. The two officers were undoubtedly confused when Stiles continued sat or stood without a care as Kate collapsed and screamed and then continued questioning her as though nothing had happened.

“How the hell did we miss these screams? There is no way...And what the hell is happening? Why isn’t the Marshal doing anything?” The Sheriff’s questions remained unanswered as the group’s focus was shifted once more to the screen.

The two women continued to talk but this time the Kate woman started levying threats at Stiles about her family coming. Talia tensed at the mention of the Argents returning. She tensed even more when Stiles continued to goad Kate into talking, into threatening the return of her disturbed father. The audio cut out as Stiles said something to Kate before she began to convulse and scream again. The audio returned once more and it appeared as though Stiles was zoned out thinking about something other than the scene before her.

The screams had petered out once more but it was obvious from the screen that the ‘Marshal’ was agitated and losing her patience. The trio watched as Stiles stood up from her seat, towering over the shuddering woman and the three were caught in a shocked silence as Derek’s name was bandied about once more. The three jumped when Kate shouted a ‘yes’. And they sat in rapt, horrified silence as Kate began to jeer and taunt Stiles as she talked about her previous victims. They watched as Stiles sat in her seat and calmly pulled information out of the quickly frenzied blonde. They watched without breathing as Kate divulged her plan on how she was going to lure Derek into her web and how she was going to kill his family. They listened in mute silence as they heard Kate weigh her decision on whether or not to slaughter Derek afterwards. They heard Stiles’ words about stopping Kate and then suddenly the audio cut out once more. The group could only stand in rapt attention as they watched, without audio, as Stiles stood up from her position, leaned towards Kate and uttered lost words. They watched as Kate began to struggle and watched as she suddenly collapsed, her screams silent on the video as Stiles stood in the background before she was suddenly gone.

“What,” Gasped the Sheriff, “the hell just happened?”

There was no one who could answer.

He continued, “I’m not sure what, what that was but we have enough for a warrant...and a conviction if everything works out.” He turned towards Tara who was still sitting, focused entirely on the screen before her. Tara jumped slightly as the Sheriff called her name. “Tara, I need you to put a call out. Bring in this Adrian Harris. In cuffs just in case. I’ll start the call for getting a search warrant for Ms. Silver’s apartment that was listed on her employment information.”

Tara nodded once, twice, a third time and then finally pushed her chair back and began to walk towards the door bypassing Talia. She stopped suddenly when she came to the door where both Robert Hale and Derek were standing, mute and haggard. Talia wanted to move towards Derek as he paled and clenched onto the door frame hard enough it creaked but Robert mutely shook his head and after gently prying Derek’s claws from the wood, began to pull Derek out from the doorway and out of the station entirely.

After the movement from Derek and Robert settled down, the doorway was open once more and Talia watched as Tara began to step forward once more but was caught again as the Sheriff called her name, “Search if there is actually a U.S. Marshal named Braedan Graham.”

“Of course, sir.” She nodded and continued out.

Talia turned to face the Sheriff.  He stood hunched over the desk filled with computers, his eyes closed and muscles taut. She approached carefully, “Sheriff?”

He straightened slowly, huffing out a low breath, “Yes?”

“May I take my son home please? I believe today has been long enough.” While it was framed as a request, there was no doubting that the man could not hear the hint of steel beneath her words.

The Sheriff nodded, “Yes. There’s no reason for him to be here right now. We’ve got,” A deep breath, “we’ve certainly got enough here without pulling him into it. Thank you for bringing him out.”

Talia nodded and turned to go.

“And Mrs. Hale?” Talia stopped and tipped her head in his direction. “I am sorry that this happened to your son. I’ll do everything I can to get to the bottom of this, I swear.”

Talia nodded decisively. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

She left the room and the stressed Sheriff behind, she walked out passed Deputy Tara who was making calls on both the phone and the radio, she walked out of the doors to the station and she walked to the car where her husband and son were waiting. There were a lot of questions that Talia had and she would have her answers.

* * *

 

Stiles sat in the living room knowing that a confrontation was coming. She had already seen Ethan and Aiden. They were happy to see her but they could sense that something was brewing. She asked Susan to watch the boys and Cora and while the woman easily agreed, there had been a question in her eyes. Stiles reassured the woman that she would have her answers soon enough.

The sound of gravel crunching from the car coming up the driveway alerted Stiles to the approach of the Hale Alpha. Derek and Robert were with her, Susan had informed Stiles. She sat straight in her chair, face turned towards the doorway where the trio would walk through. Using her magic, she was able to sense the exact moment when Talia noticed Stiles’ presence. She could sense when Talia began her path to where Stiles was sitting.

When Talia appeared in the doorway of the living room her eyes were blazing red and Stiles could see fine tremors wracking her whole frame. Robert stood behind her and Stiles watched him put his left hand on Talia’s shoulder. While the move was made presumably to calm her, Talia shook the gesture off. Stiles wasn’t looking at that though. Her attention had moved from the two in front of her to Derek who was tall enough to be seen over his mother’s shoulder. He was hunched inwards and his usually tan complexion was pallid. Her heart ached. _Better this than the alternative_ , her mind hissed at her.

Talia growled, snapping Stiles’ waning attention back towards her. She began to stalk towards Stiles until she was a few inches away forcing Stiles to tilt her head up slightly if she wanted to maintain eye contact.

“Hello Talia.”

Stiles’ calm voice seemed to have snapped whatever restraint Talia had been exercising since she had walked through the door. Talia lunged into the space between the two and grasped Stiles around her throat, her palm tight enough for Stiles to feel her windpipe constrict slightly but not tight enough for her breathing to be too severely impacted despite the grip being enough to lift her to her feet.

“Talia!” “Mom!” Robert and Derek’s shocked voices blended into one for Stiles who was too busy paying attention to the woman holding her.

The shouts brought the rest of the family to the living room and Stiles could see from her periphery that they each stopped in their tracks to take in the room as a whole.

“What game are you playing?” Talia growled out, her hand tightening.

“Talia, what is going on?” Peter voiced from the front of the rest of the family.

“Why don’t we ask Stiles here?” The hand around Stiles’ throat shook her form slightly.

“You believe I think this is a game?” Stiles asked, low, dangerous.

The hand tightened making Stiles’ breaths shallower. “I think that you arrived here and you began to play us like pawns. You have come and gone, playing god as you manipulate each and every one of us to your whim.” The claws began to dip into the flesh on the left side of Stiles’ neck.

The scent of blood has everyone’s nostrils flaring. Robert spoke up this time, “Talia, I believe it’s time for you to let her go.”

“No!” Talia barked, silencing him. “She has been keeping her secrets long enough. It’s time she divulged them.”

“Are you sure you want to do this here, Talia?”

“It’s Alpha Hale to _you_.” Talia’s eyes blazed as they focused on Stiles’.

Derek’s voice meeked out into the charged silence, “Mom. Let her go, please.”

Talia’s grip twitched at Derek’s voice. It loosened slightly but remained around Stiles’ throat. “I want my answers.”

“You know,” Stiles began conversationally as though there wasn’t an angry alpha with her claws buried in her flesh seconds away from ending her life, “I could easily render you unconscious or tear you to pieces before your claws could rip my throat out.” She looked Talia directly in the eyes, “I just want you to know that.”

“Are you threatening me?” Talia’s voice was low, gravelly in her alpha tone.

“You’re threatening me.” She shot back.

Several growls rang out at Stiles’ statement. “I saw what you did to that woman.” She sneered at Stiles.

“If you saw that then you surely heard what she was saying. She deserved what she got. She deserved _worse_ than what I did to her. And I’ll make sure she pays for her crimes just like her father will.” Stiles pushed against the hand around her throat ignoring the blood sliding down her neck from the claws.

“I heard everything. She’s a hunter, I know exactly what they are capable of. She’s an ARGENT. I _know_ what they are capable of--I have seen it.”

“And you did nothing!” Stiles broke in. “You knew that Gerard had sprung a trap on Deucalion and the werewolves that were with him. You knew he was responsible for the dissolution of the packs yet you did nothing!”

“Is this about Deucalion? What does he have to do with what is happening now?” Talia questioned.

“He has nothing to do with this. I am only demonstrating how you have left yourself and your pack open to attacks due to your complacency--your lack of spine.”

Talia roared in her face at her words, her claws digging deeper, tearing her flesh. “How dare you!” The claws pushed more blood to the surface making the familiar hot liquid flow down her neck. “Are you blaming me for what nearly happened? That I brought this upon my family?”

“No. Kate was always going to do this. You were always a target. You’re welcome by the way.”

Talia’s face twisted in a sneer, “You want me to thank you for torturing someone?”

Stiles’ voice was calm despite her predicament, “No. I don’t want your thanks. I never even expected them. Thanks to me however, you have more time to be pissed at me.”

Peter’s voice jumped in, “What do you mean more time?”

Of course Peter would be the one to latch onto the words that Stiles hadn’t meant to have slip out. She had to use all of her inner restraint not to roll her eyes. Stiles was also more than aware that she had forgotten that the others were in the room. Instead of answering immediately, Stiles took the time to catalogue the room around her. Laura was standing just beside, her face confused as her head swiveled between everyone in the room, Peter who was standing inside the living room, closer now to Talia and Stiles than they were when they had first entered with a blank expression adorning his otherwise expressive face. Robert, tall and emotionless, was standing beside the couch where Derek appears to have collapsed into himself. His arms were wrapped tightly around his middle as though he was trying to hold himself together.

Focusing on him and ignoring everyone else for the moment, Stiles finally uttered Derek’s name. When he looked up she catalogued his face, his large multi-colored eyes rimmed red were stark in his pale face, her magic reached out unconsciously to sooth him. “I am so sorry Derek. I never meant to hurt you.”

A violent shake grabbed Stiles’ attention away from Derek who was starting to look more lively. “Peter asked you a question. I suggest you answer it.”

“I suggest you let go of me and we have this conversation as civilized as possible.”

“You,” Talia growled, “have no room to be demanding anything. You claim the Argents are monsters but what you just did is monstrous all on it’s own.”

A calm settled over Stiles as her voice dropped into a whisper, “If I am truly a monster, then perhaps you should speak more softly to me because monsters are dangerous and you are in my way.”

Stiles could sense the hackles of every wolf in the room rise, a base growl rolling throughout the now silent room.

“When you first appeared here you said that I had nothing to fear from you. Were you lying?”

“No, Talia. I said that if you didn’t get in my way you would have nothing to fear from me. There’s also a lot more that I said to you upon our first few meetings. I suggest you not forget your promises either.”

At this last jab, Talia released her hold on Stiles and stepped back slightly, placing herself between Stiles and the rest of her family.

Laura broke in suddenly, “Can someone please tell the rest of _us_ ,” She gestured to herself and Peter, “What. The. Hell. is going on?”

Talia was too frustrated, too upset to take the time to explain what had occurred to her family so Stiles and Talia continued to stare eachother down while Robert recounted everything that they knew had gone down both at the school and within the sheriff’s station.

The room was silent once more while everyone tried to absorb the enormity of the bomb that was just dropped and then loud shouts broke the stifling silence. The shouts bandied about the room aimed at no one yet at everyone but the chaos passed by Talia and Stiles who were still absorbed in staring one another down.

Stiles was yanked back into the surrounding chaos as a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and began to shake her. She easily could have thrown the person manhandling her off but why bother? She was turned roughly in the circle of arms and her face pulled directly towards Peter’s. “Stiles! What did you mean when you said you gave us more time?” He began to shake Stiles violently which prompted more shouts to erupt. Stiles recognized Derek’s shout, his panic, and her magic was rising swiftly in reaction to his emotions. _She never could control her magic around her pack_ , Stiles lamented.

Derek tried to lunge towards Peter to disentangle him from Stiles but Peter reached out a hand, catching Derek mid leap and threw him back into his chair. At this, Stiles and her magic snapped. Her eyes flared molten orange, the floor beneath the group began to tremble causing everyone standing to jostle and nearly fall. Peter was suddenly on his knees crumpled in pain before Stiles, his arms no longer around her. More shouts came but they faded as the tremors shaking the house grew and a growl erupted from Stiles’ chest.

“You,” She seethed, her voice dripping venom, “You know nothing. You fight me and you stand against me. And you fight amongst yourselves. Can’t you see that everything I am doing is _for you_? I have done so much for this pack. I have done everything. I have _lost everything_.” Stiles’ voice was echoing over the panicked scrambling and shouting.

In her agitated state, Stiles did not see Derek begin to make his way towards her. She did not hear Derek ignore his family's entreaties that he stay with them away from her. She did not hear the ear-splitting cracks off the thunder of the storm which had rolled over the house unleashing it’s fury alongside her. She heard none of that, so consumed as she was with the visions of her pack and the tragedy that had befallen them. So consumed with her frustrations regarding the pack before her that neither trusted her nor believed that the actions she was taking were to help them.

A hand grasped her left palm tightly. Prepared to send the person who dared grab her away, Stiles shifted her attention and was caught by Derek’s pleading eyes.

“Stiles!” He shouted. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Please stop! Everything’s okay! Please, Stiles!”

“But you don’t understand--” Stiles’ echoing voice broke.

“Then help us. Please. Please Stiles, you need to calm down.” Derek implored. Stiles could feel her magic once more reacting to Derek’s presence and his emotional state. The tremors began to cease, the wailing that Peter had been doing had petered out to whimpers and the floor beneath the pack’s feet stopped roiling beneath their feet. She could still feel her molten eyes as they burned into Derek’s shifting eyes.

“I just wanted to help.” Stiles whispered, beginning to fall. Derek caught her before she could clatter to the ground.

“I know.” He assured her as he gathered her wayward limbs. “You saved us. You--You saved me. You saved me from her. Thank you Stiles. Thank you.”

Stiles could feel her eyes shift back to their amber color as tears gathered there, “I couldn’t let your family die again. I couldn’t let you lose them all again. I saved you all. You’re not dead. I couldn’t let you all die again.”

Stiles repeated her words not knowing that their very utterance had ground the rest of the pack to a standstill. Her magic was roiling beneath her flesh, unhappy in how it had been employed earlier and even more so at Derek’s tumultuous emotional state. She could feel her exhaustion catching up to her, pulling her under the blessing of darkness. She gladly followed the anchor pull of the soothing silence not knowing that her rambling was continuing. She sunk into the darkness and knew nothing except the distant clash of thunder and the warmth of Derek’s arms around her.


	13. How Blessed Some People Are, Whose Lives Have No Fears, No Dreads; To Whom Sleep Is A Blessing That Comes Nightly, And Brings Nothing But Sweet Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One should be sure that once they ask a question that they are prepared for the answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you all are doing well! Well, here we go--the NEW longest chapter to date at 96 pages. Regarding the content: We ALL knew a chapter like this was coming. Despite the recap of the series I have added new scenes, changed some scenes and removed some entirely. I have skipped over the episode "Visionary" due to the fact I left Paige alive in this story. The original words are more or less taken from the actual episodes so props and rights to the original content to their original 'owners'. There is a gender change to another character to better make the story flow-it should resolve itself seeing as they are a fairly superfluous character. I realized that I was remiss in listing Bisexual Stiles Stilinski (Who is Bi in my personal headcanon always) and cussing. I love cussing so it makes an appearance. I'm not sure if I should leave a trigger warning but I shall: torture, Gerard Argent, depression, suicidal thoughts (Not Stiles). This is only part 1. I do not know when I will get to part 2 but that section will be where I am heavily deviating from canon after I complete the recap of 3B. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, subscribing and commenting on my story--whenever I get the alerts it makes my heart sing. Thank you so much. I hope this finds you well and I hope you enjoy!

The sound of clashing thunder cracked and roiled through the near silent space that was left in the wake of Stiles’ revelation.  Talia looked down to see her shuddering form still enclosed in Derek’s arms, protecting and sheltering her from the destruction that the room had become.  Talia’s own limbs were unresponsive, failing to listen to the commands her brain was no doubt attempting to send to them.  

 

Talia could hear the sloshing, thundering rain that slammed into the roof and windows of her home in the stillness of the living room.  None of her family dared move--they did not even seem to be breathing.  The rain splattering against the windows sounded like rocks collapsing upon rocks--a burial death toll.  The only sounds the crashing weather, the pounding of her family’s heartbeats, and the desperate, quiet pleas still slipping from the unconscious Mage.  

 

Finally kicking her limbs and brain into gear, Talia shifted and took one step towards the fallen Mage and her son only to freeze when a low growl erupted from before her.  The growl knocked the rest of her family out of their own frozen stupors and Talia observed them from the corner of her eyes as she focused the rest of her attention on her prone son curled protectively around Stiles.  

 

Shaking herself once, she again took a step forward but another growl, this time louder, emitted out of the sitting figure of her son.  

 

Talia heard Robert speak from his place behind her, “Derek.  Everything is ok.  Let your m--”

 

“No,” came the near silent response, cutting the rest of Robert’s words off.

 

“Derek,” Talia tried only to be cut off again by her son.

 

“Don’t come near her.  You guys did this.”

 

Talia’s wolf shuddered inside her, shuffling agitatedly at being denied and at the blame in the tone her son used.  She slammed her control down on it.  She would control her reactions.  

 

Derek shifted slightly, his arms tightening around Stiles as he resettled himself facing the assembled figures of his family, keeping his back towards the wall.  “She was protecting us.  She  _ saved  _ me and you  _ attacked  _ her.”

 

Talia unconsciously let a low growl loose, “She is dangerous.  You did not see what she did to that...that  _ woman _ .  She--”

 

“I don’t care.”

 

Derek lifted his head from where he had been staring down at Stiles’ unconscious face.  Even now in slumber, it was still twisted in anguish, her eyes racing beneath her closed lids, her lips trembling as those near silent whispers slithered past them.  

 

“She was protecting us.  She saved me from a hunter.  I don’t care about the screams I heard.” He looked straight at Talia, not lowering his eyes from hers.  “I heard all of the screams.  We were right behind you.  I saw the video over your shoulder.”  He paused here to look at everyone else around them and Talia kept her eyes locked on her son’s face.  

 

“She has done nothing but protect people since she got here.  She’s never tried to hurt us unless one of  _ you _ has provoked her.”

 

Laura finally took a step forwards and when Derek didn’t growl, took another until eventually she knelt beside him and looked Stiles over without touching her.  

 

Talia could scent that the blood covering Stiles’ neck was drying, caking onto her flesh.  She heard Laura attempt to coax Derek into letting go of Stiles so that she could get cleaned up.  Talia watched her son stand while continuing to hold Stiles and, no doubt counting on Laura to guard his back, began walking away from his family to march up the stairs with Laura following slightly behind.

 

The silence left behind was suffocating.

* * *

 

Stiles awoke to find herself comfortable and warm, bundled in someone’s arms.  Her brain did not sense any ill intent from the person holding her so she allowed herself to drift in the safe haze that was currently surrounding her.

 

The arms around her tightened and she reluctantly began to lead herself back to the world of the living.  Coming up from the pleasant fog that had enveloped her was a slow process and she found herself clinging to the hazy world of sleep--a dreamless, nightmare-less sleep.  Stiles extended her senses and found that Derek was holding her tightly to his chest while Laura sat at the foot of the bed.  She could sense that she was within the room she had been using since her arrival.  Neither person sitting with her appeared to notice Stiles’ waking nor did they bear any ill will.  

 

She pulled her senses in and finally blinked open her eyes.  She noted that the sunlight that had been blinding earlier was gone.  Instead, moonlight filters in through the windows of her room and the room itself is swathed in shadows and darkness.  Lightly she pushes against the arms holding her.  They tighten briefly and then release allowing Stiles her movement.  She sits up slowly and takes in the figures surrounding her.  There is no malice nor anger in their eyes only sadness and curiosity and dare Stiles say it, understanding.   _ What could they possibly understand?  They understand nothing! _ Stiles squashes the inner voice and focuses on Laura and Derek.

 

“How bad was it?”  She rasps out, her voice thick.

 

“Well, the living room’s partially destroyed but all-in-all I’d say we’re doing pretty well.” Laura quipped.

 

Derek remained silent so Stiles turned to face him.  His face was in shadow but Stiles could tell that he was looking right at her, taking in the plains of her face.  “Stiles,” he broached, “You said…”

 

“I know what I said.”  Stiles said quietly, sparring Derek the choice to continue, to repeat her damned words back at her.  She looks back and forth between Laura and Derek.  “Time to face the music isn’t it?”

* * *

 

Stiles, Derek, and Laura make their way downstairs where the rest of the pack, barring Susan, Ethan, Aiden, and Cora were.  Deaton was also present.  No doubt to look her wounds over.  Or perhaps break into her mind again to pry her thoughts from her.  The idea sends Stiles’ lip curling over her teeth but she pays the druid wearing her friend’s face no mind as she takes in the rest of the room.  

 

Robert and Talia are standing beside one another, Peter just to the left of them standing in a corner to have the best visual of the room and it’s occupants, and Deaton is standing beside the island, hands clasped behind him, his usual stoic face on display.

 

It seems Stiles would be the first two speak again.  “I...apologize for my outburst earlier and the subsequent destruction of your living room.”

 

“And your treatment of the hunter?”  Talia’s question was pointed, demanding a response.

 

Stiles’ lips curled back, “I won’t apologize for that.”

 

Talia went to take a step forward but Robert pulled her back.  “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night, my love.”

 

Talia’s form rippled but eventually stilled under Robert’s coaxing ministrations.  It was then that Peter spoke up.  “Towards the end of your...display, you began repeating to Derek that you could not let his family die again.  Might I inquire as to what you meant?  

 

Stiles looked at Peter.  He still stood ready to defend his pack but he seemed smaller than before, less jovial.  She could understand that despite her still having trouble reconciling the multiple versions of the man within her mind.  

 

“I meant exactly what I said.”  Stiles turned to face Talia head on.  “That huntress I...dealt with...  If I had let her continue on her path, you and nearly your entire family would be dead by month's end.”

 

Breaths were sucked in all around her but she paid them no heed as barrelled on.  “Was the torture necessary?  No, it was not.  Was it warranted?  More than you will ever know.  I will not apologize for repaying upon that  _ woman _ a fraction of what she deserved.”

 

No one argued and no one questioned too busy running Stiles’ words through their minds.  

 

Laura made to step beside Stiles which caught her attention.  “Can you…” She drifted off. “Can you tell us what you know?”

 

At this question, Peter raised his head to look at Stiles.  Stiles watched as the remaining heads of Talia and Robert raised as well before she looked behind her at Derek.  His face was pale but determined as he looked into her eyes.  She looked forward again surveying everyone before her.

 

“Are you sure about this?  Once you know, you can never go back.”  She paused letting that sink in before continuing, “We can continue as we have been--me knowing what is to come and diverting it without your knowledge and little interference and you need never know the path your lives took.”

 

Silence reigned supreme as Stiles allowed everyone to gather their own thoughts.  She drifted towards the stove and began to prepare a cup of tea while the silence thickened.  It was only when Stiles had sat down upon one of the chairs encircling the island did everyone begin to awaken from their self-imposed fugues.  

 

Derek’s voice, soft but strong, “I would like to know what happens.”

 

Stiles looks at him in his universe colored eyes, willing him to understand what she would not say.  She would not sway him.  She would not dictate his life.  She would not be like Kate.  “Are you sure?  What I have seen is not pleasant.”  

 

Derek appeared to settle himself, “Yes.”  

 

Stiles nodded silently and waited for the other responses.  Laura and Peter followed at nearly the same time leaving only Robert and Talia unaccounted for.  When she glanced up at them she saw that the two were having a discussion without speaking.  Eventually the two came to a consensus and faced Stiles.  Robert spoke a joint ‘yes’ for both of them.  Stiles nodded once and drained the dregs of her tea.  

 

She stood slowly and began walking towards the living room knowing intuitively that the Hale Pack was following closely behind.  When she got into the room she saw the carnage she had left and with a flick of her wrist and flare of her eyes, she watched the room right itself.  Stiles went to the armchair she had sat in earlier when she awaited Talia’s arrival and watched as the pack stopped in the archway of the living room.  

 

She waved them in and everyone found a seat.  The quiet was almost a living thing.  Deaton stood by the doorway, blank faced but Stiles could sense that he was wondering what exactly his role was now that Stiles was conscious.  

 

Stiles looked towards the gathered family around her, even Deaton standing there in the background and sighed deeply, crumbling into herself slightly.  She knew, even if she wished to shake the knowledge from her mind, that this day was going to come sooner or later.  And she knew that what was about to happen would shift something vital, intrinsic within the Hale Pack and family...and within each pack member irrevocably.  Stiles could feel that silver liquid try to pool beneath her eyes and she steeled herself.  She had cried enough.  

 

The Hale Pack had asked for answers.  She would give them to them.

 

Looking up, Stiles pierced Deaton with her burning gaze.  “Come, Emissary.”

 

Stiles watched dispassionately as Deaton jumped at the formal command in her voice and then appeared to rest his control back enough to fall into his usual blank facade as he stepped towards her.  She noted that the rest of the members within the room jumped slightly as well at the first sound to break their silence spilled out into the room, but that they remained still and watched Deaton move towards her.  

 

He stopped just before her, face still blank but Stiles could sense the curiosity beginning to creep over his shoulders.  “You’re going to help me maintain a mental link with Talia and whomever else wishes to see the events of my past.  I know about the claws in the back of the neck and that you helped Talia do this when needed but seeing as I don’t want any claws in my throat again,” The room shifted slightly as if in remembrance of what had occurred only a few hours ago in this very room. “I would prefer to use my magic to aid me.”

 

Deaton nodded with a interested twist to his lips, his eyes shining slightly.  “I can do that.”

 

Stiles cut in, “I know you can.  You have helped me before.”

 

Deaton’s eyes tightened slightly, the twist disappearing, falling back into the unassuming line it had previously been in.  Stiles did not care if he was insulted.  He was not the Deaton of her past.   _ That  _ Deaton would see respect from her, or at least as much respect as Stiles could muster if she were being completely honest.  

 

“Do you have enough magic left to even sustain the amount you will need?”  It was the closest Deaton would ever come to being rude and Stiles, despite herself, allowed her lips to quirk in amusement.  

 

She met Deaton’s eyes straight on, “I have more than enough.”  

 

Deaton did not react more than to reply with a solemn nod before he turned towards the gathered Hale Pack.  “Whoever wishes to step into Ms. Stilinski’s mind, please step forward.”

 

“Will it hurt her?”  Derek’s voice chimed into the silence.  Deaton only quirked a brow and waited for Derek to continue.  “If there are too many of us, will that hurt her?”

 

Stiles cut in before Deaton could, “No.  You will all be perfectly safe and so will I.”

 

Derek’s eyes seemed to take in the plains of Stiles’ face intently, lingering most on her eyes until his own shuttered slightly and he nodded, taking a step forward.  It was not surprising that Talia stepped forward next.  Followed by Peter.  Then Robert and Laura last.  

 

Stiles looked towards Deaton.  “You’ve already been in my head once.  Care to actually be invited this time?”  She did not care to dull the edge of the growl that reverberated up her throat as she threw a pointed glance at him receiving only a deeply bowed head in her direction showing his acquiescence.  “Then let’s begin.”

* * *

 

Derek opened his eyes to see white everywhere.  The last thing he had seen before closing his eyes were the warm colors of his living room and his family taking their seats around the room surrounding Stiles’ prone position as she had Deaton guide her into a meditative state with his mom’s hand on the back of her neck, the claws not piercing her no doubt tender flesh.  Deaton had given the soft command for everyone to close their eyes and breathe deeply and then Derek had felt as though he were floating before he suddenly opened his eyes.  And found himself blinded by the ongoing whiteness of the room that he and his family stood in.

 

Everyone was looking around, squinting slightly attempting to acclimate to the new change in light.  Derek looked towards his mother and she was staring intently at Deaton as the whole room, completely silent, allowed everyone to hear when Deaton’s heart hitched slightly.  Everyone turned to look at him and then turned to face whatever had caught his attention.  Derek looked and found himself frozen yet again.  

 

Sprawling in the middle of the vast white room was a large stump erupting out of the previously pristine floor.  Derek knew exactly what that shape was--the Nemeton.  But why was it here in Stiles’ mind?  Looking at Deaton, Derek saw that he was slightly taken aback but not as much as the rest of the pack.  And then Stiles’ previous words slithered into his head about Deaton being in her mind before.  And the indication that it had not been at her invitation.  Derek felt a growl start low in his chest but there was a tugging even lower than the place from which the growl had originated.  It pulled at him.  Pulled his attention back towards the large stump and up to what sat upon it.  How had he missed it the first time?  

 

Sitting nearly still upon the sheared top of the Nemeton was Stiles.  Two of her in fact.  They were facing off against one another with something that he could not see sat between them on a raised platform.  The Stiles on the left was dressed in the odd black pant suit that she had been wearing when Derek and his mother and father had arrived back at the house.  She was sitting there with her legs crossed facing towards the other Stiles.  This other version of Stiles looked almost the exact same physically were it not for her bone white skin and the outfit she was wearing.  A beige pair of pants that ended with clunky work boots with a deep brown bomber jacket adorning her shoulders.  

 

Derek looked towards his family and saw them all looking towards Talia for further instruction for they had never been within another person’s mind before.  

 

Before Talia could utter a word once her lips parted, a low cool voice slithered into the silence and purred, “Why don’t you come closer Hale Pack?”

 

The voice was Stiles’ and yet it was not.  The temperature in the room felt as though it had dropped drastically as everyone slowly rotated to look again towards the tree stump and the figures upon it.  Derek watched as the Not-Stiles figure shifted something forward on the dias before the real Stiles without looking up at the new visitors.  

 

The voice sounded again, coaxing and low, “I promise not to bite, little wolves.”

 

Real Stiles said nothing, did not acknowledge Derek and his family’s existences nor the speaking of her not self.  She only looked down at the board and slid something forward, resuming her silent position.  

 

Derek felt his curiosity flare and so was the first to step forward, evading his sister’s questing hands to step closer to the tree stump.  He saw a smile flit across the left side of the fake Stiles’ features as she opened her mouth once more.  “Of course the Big Bad Wolf would step forward first,”  She turned to face Stiles’ still quiet form, “he’s not such a Sourwolf now though.  Not like the other one.”

 

“Don’t call him that.”  Voice cold, unyielding even as her face remained that quiet calm.

 

At the response the fake Stiles began to laugh.  A cackle of ice that speared through Derek sending his insides tumbling, tightening in response.  His family who had been starting to follow his footsteps paused a moment at the unholy, grating sound.  Derek faltered slightly but continued his path forward evading the grasping limbs of the roots until he stood about five feet away from the Nemeton and the seated figures.  Here he froze as the fake Stiles finally looked away from her counterpart and looked straight towards him.  He froze as he took in the bone white features of her face.  The deep purple, red bruising under her sickly green eyes that looked like poison, at the cracks that ran across her stone face.  There was one spreading from one side of her forehead to the other and there were two under her eyes--one descending from each until they dropped to her chint.  She looked like ugly broken china.  She looked like death.

 

“She’s always so protective of her little wolves.  None more so than you and that runt she loved so though.  She wouldn’t stop screaming when I hurt him.”

 

A hand slammed down on the board between the two Stiles’ and a thunder clap resounded through the room.  “Enough.”  The growl was prominent in Derek’s ears.  Stiles’ lips were pulled back from her teeth, her eyes flashing darkly, her posture rigid as she took in her destroyed face.  

 

Derek stood silently as he watched the two counterparts glare at one another, both pairs of eyes flashing, burning into the other.  The contest was broken by the ruined version of Stiles pushing a small black pebble forward before settling herself once more.  The game did not look familiar to Derek even if the board they were playing on did.  It looked almost like checkers being played upon a chess board.  He could not makes sense of it.  There were black and white pebbles all across the board, all separated from one another by the other color.  

 

Feeling his family and Deaton come up around him, he moved closer towards the real Stiles allowing his family a closer look at what exactly was before them.  He heard his mother ask Deaton what exactly they were looking at but hearing no response Derek refocused his attention upon Stiles.  She had not moved beyond taking her hand from atop the board and focusing more on the pebbles on her side.  She gave no indication that she knew he was beside her, circling her to get to the other side of where she was sitting.  

 

He opened his mouth in an attempt to gather Stiles’ attention but was cut off by the jagged Stiles.  “Aren’t you going to welcome our guests Stiles?  It’s been so long since I’ve had company.”

 

No response.  

 

“Oh come now Stiiiiiiiles,” She hissed with a smirk upon her cracked and twisted features. “Don’t you want them to see what you’ve hidden up here?  Kept locked away?  Or are you scared?  Scared that they’ll scream  _ murderer _ at you like your old pack?”

 

Derek watched his Stiles’ jaw clench slightly at the other’s words but her face managed to remain carefully blank.  “I think you’ll find that you were the murderer.  And my pack did not scream that at me.”

 

Fake Stiles grabbed everyone’s attention as a large snap rang out, her face twisted in a pleased, gruesome smirk that sent more fissures up her face.  “You know, you’re right!  Only a couple of your precious pack thought you a murderer.  How could I forget?   _ You _ were the one so content to wave that banner.   _ Little Murderer _ .”

 

Stiles’ eyes slid into slits as her eyes themselves flared, “Do what you will.”

 

Derek finally voiced a question that no one else seemed inclined to ask.  His voice breaking through the thick tension.  “Stiles,” Derek paused when both figures turned their heads slowly to face him, perfectly in time.  He shook himself slightly, “Why are we here and who is this?” He pointed at the cracked and wicked figure.

 

The real Stiles finally reacted; her eyes softened, dimmed and saddened.  The grief spilling from her as well as the guilt before she answered him.  “This is the opening into my mind.  I have no idea what it used to be before it became this...place.  This--”

 

“Purgatory”  The other intoned wryly.

 

Stiles’ face tightened at the reminder of her counterpart and continued, her voice softening slightly, “This person is me too.  Or at least a version of me.  I was...possessed by a Nogitsune and that version of me is what you are seeing right now.  That was what we were when we were one.”

 

“Too bad your filthy pack had to get all high and mighty and then stabby.  I just wanted to have some fun.  You would too if you were trapped in this despicable tree for decades.”  

 

Stiles did not deign to answer the being wearing her face.  Derek did not know what a Nogitsune was but he also had no doubt that soon enough he would find out once he made it through her memories.  Despite the fact that Stiles had offered his pack the chance to see everything for himself, he found that this, invitation or not, was a violation.  Despite those feelings, he still went because he had to know.  He had to know who this person was.  Why he was so drawn to her.  Why he was so determined to protect her, stand against his own mother and Alpha for her.  He needed to know why.   _ Why, why, why _ .  

 

“She,” Stiles faltered, “will be leading you through my memories.  She will answer any questions you have.”

 

Derek jumped in, “Why not you? Why her?”

 

Stiles bowed her head to avoid looking at him directly but did not answer.  He was about to repeat the question again before he was interrupted by the other Stiles.  “I wouldn’t bother to be quite honest.  She won’t lead you because she can’t.  She’s weak.  I’ll take you because these aren’t my memories and I can’t bring myself to care at the moments in her life I show you.  You’ll get the perfect-- _ mostly _ unbiased--tour from me.  Nothing like what you’d get from her.”  She turned towards Stiles again, “Well aren’t you going to make your move?  I think you’ve had more than enough time to consider it.” She leaned towards Stiles who was still looking at the ground avoiding Derek’s face, “It’s not like any move you make matters in the grand scheme of things.”

 

There was no response, only Stiles readjusting her attentions to the board and pushing a white pebble forward.  A loud clap resounded in the bright room making everyone jump.  Everyone watched as the other Stiles stood up from her position and dusted off imaginary dust from her clothes.  She glanced at everyone surrounding her and let a disturbing smile slither across her cracked face that sent chips flaking onto the white floor.  She rubbed her hands together, “Everyone ready?”  She paused to look once more and when no response came she clapped once more, her jagged laugh breaking the previous silence, “Then let’s begin.”

* * *

 

The white light of the corridor disappeared and a new place reformed around Derek and his family.  Suddenly they were outside of a small two story house at night.  The moon was full and high above the front porch.  By the look of everyone’s faces, they did not know where they were.  

 

Stiles, the cracked and broken one, looked around bored yet her eyes seemed to twinkle slightly as she took in the confusion on everyone’s faces.  “I hope you don’t mind, but I hate origin stories.  We’ll flip through Stiles’ younger years later.  They’re too boring right now anyway.  So much richer later.  Tonight’s a fun one though.”

 

Suddenly the front door creaked open and a young teen boy walked out with a wooden bat in his hands as he stepped out onto the porch looking around.  The boy was tan, even in the dark, and he had a tall stature despite not being filled out.  Freshman, Derek thought to himself.  The group watched as the young man turned around about to go inside when suddenly a body came flying through the air to hang upside down.  The group jumped and winced as the two figures began screaming at each other.  

 

The screaming eventually stopped and the two watched each other unknowingly being watched by the assembled group.  

 

“Stiles what the hell are you doing?”  The boy shouted as he held onto the bat tightly.  The use of Stiles’ name immediately pulled Derek’s attention to the young girl hanging upside down.  She was dressed in baggy clothing, her hair shorn short to her head as though she had previously shaved it, her face young and open--nothing like Derek recalled the Stiles he knew looking like.

 

“You weren’t answering your phone!  Why do you have a bat?”

 

The boy blushed slightly but kept his stance still as he responded sheepishly, “I thought you were a predator.” 

 

The group watched as Stiles crowed with laughter--a sound they had never heard before.  

 

The boy dropped the hand holding the bat to glare halfheartedly at the hanging girl, “Yes, laugh at your best friend who could’ve almost killed you.”

 

Soon the laughing subsided and a mirthful Stiles opened her mouth, “Look, I know it’s late, but you’re going to want to hear this.  My dad left twenty minutes ago because dispatch called.  Not just him but every officer in the state!”  She paused seemingly waiting for the male before her to respond.  

 

She did not have to wait long.  “What for?”

 

“Two joggers found a dead body in the woods.”  She replied before she flipped herself over and landed right side up.  

 

“A dead body?”  The boy asked, his head tilted, admittedly, like a puppy.

 

“No, a body of water--yes dumbass, a dead body.”  Her response garnered an amused snort from where Peter was standing.

 

“Like a murder?”

 

“No one knows!  Except that the girl’s about twenty years old.”  She hemmed and shuffled until the boy looked at her questioningly.

 

Finally he asked, “If they found the body what are they looking for?”

 

Derek watched as a smile that he could only categorize as mischievous planted itself upon Stiles’ lips.  “They only found half.”

 

Derek felt his stomach drop and the world around them shifted as the two began their trek.  

 

“This part’s boring so we’ll just silent movie it.  I did enjoy those.”  Everyone ignored the other Stiles as they watched the events before them play out.  They watched the younger version of Stiles trample throughout the woods of the preserve with her friend.  Derek could not be the only one wondering where his family and himself were in this point of time but they were all silent.  They watched as Stiles was caught by her father and escorted out after she and the boy were separated and then the world dissolved again.

 

Reforming once more, Derek looked around to see the woods of the preserve.  The woods looked familiar and the sun shone brightly.  Suddenly Derek put the place in his memory-- he ran in these woods when he needed time to think.  The pair appeared to be looking for something as they continued to glance towards the ground as they were talking.  

 

The sound soon flooded into the memory.  The birds and the breeze swaying through, and eventually Stiles’ voice, “You know, I’ve heard of this before.  I think I know what this is.”  She paused and the boy looked up.

 

“Well?” He demanded in the silence.

 

“Sounds like lycanthropy.”  Everyone in the clearing froze.  Everyone except for the pseudo-Stiles.  What did the real Stiles call it?  The Nokit-Nogitisoon-Nogitsune. Nogitsune- that’s right.  No one seemed to breathe as the pair continued in their set path.  

 

“What?  Is that bad?”  The boy asked, his form beginning to tremble.

 

“Oh yeah.  It’s the worst.  But it’s only once a month.”

 

The boy looked confused, “Once a month?”

 

And Derek and the pack jerk as Stiles gives a high-pitched, joking wolf howl which ended when the boy punched her in the arm.  

 

Derek blocked out what was being said until another person walked into the memory besides Stiles and the boy.  The man was dressed in dark clothing, his skin deeply pale as he watched the two teens horseplaying around.  Derek watched as Stiles noticed the man first followed by her companion.  

 

“What are you doing here?  This is private property.”  No one said anything but Derek watched as the boy stepped in front of Stiles as though to protect her from the hulking man coming towards them.  

 

Derek watched Stiles say to the new presence, “Sorry man, we didn’t know.”

 

“Yeah, we were looking for something…but it wasn’t important” The boy’s voice drifted off as the man across from them glared them down.  

 

Derek watched the man look from the boy towards Stiles and he saw how his stare lingered on her.  He felt his hackles rise up slightly despite him knowing that his ire would amount to nothing.  This was only a memory--everything that will happen has already happened.

 

The man suddenly threw something towards the boy who caught it.  It was an inhaler and when Derek looked up once more towards the man, he was suddenly gone.  

 

A moment of silence was broken soon by Stiles hitting her companion in the side, “Dude that was Derek Hale!  Remember?”  Gasps from all around Derek broke out as his own jaw dropped slightly.  He froze.  That was him?  What the hell had happened to him?  Before he could get too drawn into his own thoughts Stiles continued, “He's only a few years older than us.” She explained, “His family died in a house fire, like ten years ago."

 

The silence around him was palpable.  He could feel the Nogitsune version of Stiles jittering.  He could scent her excitement.  Her vindictive joy as she watched everything before them play out.  

 

“I think we’ve seen enough of this part.”  She intoned, the smile visible in her voice.  The world around the group shifted once more and suddenly the world reformed as a room with Stiles standing beside a desk by the door.  Derek assumed it was Stiles’ room.  Before he could look around, Derek’s attention was pulled towards Stiles and the boy again.   _ Who is this boy? _

 

The two were already talking, “Tonight’s the full moon.”

 

The boy rolled his eyes and shoulders, “Stiles not this again.”  Frustration dripped from his pores.  Derek didn’t even have to smell it to tell.  It was visible in every line of his body.  Derek straightened slightly as he watched Stiles position a chair between the two of them.  

 

“I'm  _ serious _ . You have been very frustrated and you basically roared at me today before the game. Scott, I'm  _ scared _ , that you're going to do something you're going to regret.”

 

_ Scott.  The boy’s name is Scott.   _ “No, I can control it. I didn't hurt anyone.” 

 

“That maybe be true--” Stiles began, but was suddenly cut off as her back met the wall behind her.  The bo- _ Scott _ had moved so fast that there was no way Stiles would have seen the movement coming.  The group tensed as one when they heard the smack and as they watched the boy raise his head enough so that his beta yellow eyes were glowing.  They watched in tense silence as one of Scott’s hands remained wrapped around Stiles’ throat.  

 

They could hear the rough drags of Stiles’ breathes through her tightening throat as she attempted to breath out, "Scott?" 

 

The assembled group watched Scott snap out of the fugue state he had found himself in.  The two finished exchanging words and Scott walked out leaving Stiles breathing heavily. 

 

“Well that was fun!”  Intoned the oily voice of the Nogitsune.  

 

The events that happened afterwards seemed to fastforward.  The group watched Stiles run after Scott.  It turned out he went to some party and Stiles was trying to find him and some girl named Allison.  Derek watched as she was approached and manhandled by the older version of himself and he saw them go head to head before his older self disappeared leaving Stiles rubbing her sore arm.  They saw the two meet up in the lunchroom on Monday and they heard when Scott revealed that this Allison girl’s father was a hunter who was in the woods last night and shot at him.  Derek didn’t have to look at his mother and father to know that their faces paled slightly.  A low growl rumbling out from their direction.  

 

“Oh hush now.”  Chimed in the chipper voice.  “This is just the beginning.”

 

And with that the pace of Stiles’ memories continued to spiral out.  It seemed there would be no more jumping ahead--only skimming through the parts of Stiles’ life and stopping when the creature wearing her face deemed necessary.  Derek did not know which was worse but he braced himself for whatever he would see next.  

 

Derek could only watch as a newly turned Scott attempted to attack Stiles, her fighting back by spraying a fire extinguisher on him, he watched alongside his family and pack as the two moved throughout their lives.  They watched as they went hunting again in the woods and Derek found himself cringing and recoiling in horror along with his family as they finally viewed what was left of their home.  Nothing but ashes and death.  Parts of the roof caved in, all of it water damaged from the rain and weathering that had no doubt come to rip it’s own pieces out of the once proud home.  Derek felt his stomach churn as he watched the two begin un-spiraling a wolfsbane plant.  He knew exactly what was buried there--only a supernatural creature would be buried in such a way.  

 

He watched in horror as the two uncovered half of a wolf’s upper body and he watched in shock and horror as the half shifted from its wolf form to its human one and he heard various members of his family proceed to vomit as they saw just who was buried there.  

 

_ Laura. _

 

Derek could feel the form beside him trembling with joy as she watched the chaos around her.  He forced himself to continue watching.  He watched as multiple bodies dropped around the town of Beacon Hills, he watched as his older self and Scott went head to head again and again, he watched Scott and Allison begin to fall in love, he watched as that Kate woman showed up and began to run rampant through the streets.  He watched himself throw Stiles into the door of her very own room, watched himself shove her head into the steering column of her jeep, he watched as he was torn away from where Stiles and Scott stood and thrown into the darkness.  He watched a group of teenagers run through the halls of the high school running from some invisible monster.  He watched as he was poisoned and he sought out Stiles and Scott and how they saved his life. 

 

He and his family could only watch as a monstrous form continued to attack and kill the people of Beacon Hills.  They watch as police and hunters begin to search for Derek’s older self and he hides in Stiles’ room.  Peter makes a dry comment on how Derek’s older self decides the best place to hide from the cops would be to hide under the current Sheriff’s roof, in his daughter’s own room.  Derek didn’t have to growl him out--everyone else did that for him.  They learned that Deaton works with Scott as his mentor and boss and they watch as that relationship grows while Derek and Deaton fail to interact.  Derek heard his mom growl at that but the memories kept coming.

 

They watch as while Derek is on the run the identity of the Alpha werewolf that changed Scott and killed Laura and has been rampaging through the town was revealed to be Peter himself.  Everyone glanced at Peter and saw how he had paled, how he had caved into himself as he undoubtedly began to piece everything back together.  They watched as Peter tried to attack Stiles and as Peter and Derek went head to head, hate flying from both of them.  Both rending and tearing at each other until Stiles ran away from her memory.  

 

Suddenly the memories begin to slow down a bit.  “Ooh,” Broke in the sickly sweet voice of the other Stiles, “Here’s a fun little bit.”  

 

The images slowed to where Stiles was dressed in an overlarge white dress shirt with a fat black tie around her collar and black dress pants which draped down to cover her converse.  She’s searching frantically for the girl with red hair who Derek had seen her ask to the dance they were currently at.  

 

Stiles was running.  She made it out of the school and everyone watched as she looked towards the floodlights of the lacrosse field.  She began screaming the girl’s name  _ Lydia _ as she ran towards her.  Her shouts increasing as the over large figure of Peter began to sneak up behind her.   _ Lydia, run!  _

 

The assembled group could do nothing but watch as Peter attacked the defenseless red head, scratching her, biting her as she clawed and scrambled at the ground to get away.  Everyone could hear their Peter wheezing horribly behind them as they watched everything unfold.  

 

They watched as the redheaded girl stopped moving, they watched Stiles collapse beside the girl and as she reached over her unconscious form to punch Peter directly in the face and snarl at him.  Her human snarl pitiful yet marked as a threat.  They watched and dreaded as Peter began to run his claws threateningly over the unconscious girl until Stiles agreed to go with him.  

 

Peter forced Stiles away from the bleeding girl in the middle of the field and made her drive him to a parking garage where he proceeded to show Stiles a dead body and demand her help.  They watched him drag and manhandle Stiles around and they all froze when Peter pinned Stiles face down onto the trunk lid and threaten her.  The two exchanged words and threats even as Stiles was shoved around and growled at.  Derek was amazed when Stiles didn’t back down from staring his currently crazed Uncle down.  He realized that Stiles was completely human right at this exact moment.  There was no sign of her magical abilities.  Not one whisp.  The fact that a human Stiles stood toe to toe against a crazed Alpha werewolf and glared him down sent a shock through Derek.  He could only continue watching as the events of the past continued to unfold before him and his family.  

* * *

 

Peter could not breathe.  He could not make sense of what he was seeing.  His whole family was dead?  Murdered in a fire?  The fire that Stiles had stopped by her actions at the police station?  

 

Did she do all of this to stop the events currently playing out before his and his pack’s--his family’s eyes?   He watched as his future self murdered and butchered multiple people.  He watched in horror as it was revealed that he had murdered his own niece to steal away her Alpha power.  He saw himself attack Derek and all of Stiles’ young friends even young Stiles herself.  

 

_ No wonder she can’t stand me; hates me even _ .   _ What else have I done? _

 

Stiles attempted to pull her hand from his future self’s strong grip but all that happens is Peter bringing her wrist up to his mouth and offering her the bite.  He watches Stiles refuse the bite and essentially tell him to go to hell.  And when he both sees and hears this, he can’t help but fill with pride.

 

_ So this is where the Stiles I met comes from.   _

 

Peter watched on as the memories continued to crawl by him and his gathered family.  He watched as Stiles made her way to the hospital looking no doubt for the bloodied red head.  Peter’s stomach twisted as he recalled what he--future him--had done.  How could he have turned into this monster?  He could understand seeking revenge for his murdered family but that did not reveal why he had murdered his own niece and attempted to murder his own nephew and why he kept attacking these innocent teenagers.  What had happened?  

 

He watched Stiles find the red-headed girl and watched her slump in relief when she heard that the girl was going to be fine.  Others came and left, some ignoring Stiles’ slumped form, other’s pausing a short time to glance with understanding and sympathy in Stiles’ direction.  It was at the moment that Peter recalled that Stiles’ mother had died in this very hospital.  There was no doubt that the people currently looking at Stiles were there that night and every night that the young girl had been there before her mother’s passing.  

 

It was a tall figure with a near military posture and short silver hair (a silver fox if Peter did say so himself) that found Stiles and the tall, short haired guy beside her whose name was apparently Jackson.  The man came with two another men of similar build and the two shuffled Stiles and her young friend into an empty hospital room.  The other man took this Jackson’s arm to hold him in place while silver fox stood before a now standing Stiles.  He was dressed in dark clothes and he towered over Stiles by at least a head, his cold ice-blue eyes on her face, assessing and apparently finding her lacking.   _ Hunters _ , Peter’s wolf growls.  He doesn’t like the fact that hunters are currently surrounding the younger Stiles.  He can feel his eyes shift in response but he pushes that reaction back.  

 

The man’s voice was a deep rumble, “Let me ask you a question Stiles.  Have you ever seen a rabid dog?”

 

Stiles hummed thoughtfully, “No.  But I could put it on my to-do list,” She tells him sounding both bored and sarcastic before she continued, “If you just let me go.”

 

Peter’s eyes widened slightly as Stiles began to sass the hunter before her.  There was no way that she did not know who--what-- was standing before her.  Who was holding her and her friend in an abandoned room.  

 

The man does not even appear to hear the last part of Stiles’ words, “Well, I have. And the only thing I've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon.” He pauses and stares at Stiles intently, “Do you wanna know what happened?”

 

“Not really.” She drawls sounding completely uninterested in the interaction before her, “No offense to your storytelling skills.”

 

“He tried to kill me, and I was  _ forced _ to put a bullet in his head.” The man pauses to take a half-step towards where Stiles was standing before continuing,“The whole time he was laying there dying, he was still trying to claw his way towards me--still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath.”

 

The last part seems to snag Stiles’ attention and she looks directly into the silver fox’s eyes, silently, “Can you imagine that?”

 

“No.” Peter watches Stiles lie easily to the man before her.  She seems to debate something before opening her mouth once more, “ And it sounds to me like you need to be a little bit more select-”

 

“Did Scott try to kill  _ you _ on the full moon?” the strange man asks, “Did you have to lock him up somewhere?  Chain him up so he couldn’t get free and hurt or kill anyone?”

 

Silence was the only response. “Yeah, I did,” Stiles responded begrudgingly, “I had to handcuff him to a radiator.” She paused here, her lip curling slightly at the man before her, “Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and  _ burned _ the whole house down around him?”

 

The man paused here, his intent features hardening, his silver-blue eyes glinting as he leans in towards Stiles, “We never did that.”

 

A scoff breaks from Stiles’ mouth.  “Oh, right. Because you guys had a code.” She taunts, “I guess  _ no one _ ever breaks it.”

 

“Never.”  The response was hard and fast.

 

“What if someone does?  What if someone did?”  Stiles pushed.  

 

“No one has.” The man repeated but paused shortly after as though in consideration, his eyes shining as he pins Stiles in place beneath them.  “Just out of curiosity, who do you think broke our code?”

 

Stiles merely lifted her head to stare the taller man down, her own human eyes flashing with some unnamed emotion as a cruel smile found itself upon her lips, “Your sister.”

 

Peter could only watch helplessly along with his family as the man before Stiles grabbed her hard and shoved her into the wall, his left hand wrapped threateningly around her throat, his eyes sharp, his teeth bared at the young girl beneath him.  Peter saw the other boy attempt to scramble towards the figure holding Stiles to undoubtedly help her but he was drawn up short by the other man holding him as he pressed a knife low into Jackson’s stomach as a warning.

 

The whole group was tense as they watched the events continue to unfold.  

 

“I suggest,” The man breathed hard in Stiles’ face, “You rethink what exactly you’re saying.”

 

No time wasted before Stiles’ immediate reply, “No.  I think it’s about time you pulled the wool from your eyes.”

 

The hand on Stiles’ throat tightened, her breaths coming shorter in response but she refused to back down, still staring intently into the man’s blue eyes.

 

“Your sister found a way to get inside information on the Hales and then she locked them in their house and burned them to death.  I wouldn’t be surprised if your bitch of a sister stayed there to hear their screams.”

 

Stiles’ breathes cut off as the hand tightened at the bitch comment, her heart stuttering but her gaze remained steady, hard as she glared into the man holding her.  At last the grip shifted and Stiles was able to suck in air again, though the hand did not leave her throat entirely.  

 

“I wonder,”  That sickly sweet voice of Stiles’ counterpart broke in between the gasps, “If Chris likes it rough in bed too?”

 

Peter shook his head in disgust as a tinkling laugh broke free from the pseudo-Stiles.  “What?  Don’t tell me you weren’t wondering Peter.  We know how you used to look at him.  Mmmm.”

 

Peter flinched slightly as Talia released a small roar in the direction of the fake Stiles which only resulted in a new peal of twisted laughter.  

 

The group refocused on the memory as this Chris person--this man who was the brother to the psychopath who posed as Derek’s teacher to kill them, began to speak once more.  “And where exactly did you get this information?  How do I know you’re not making this up to save your wolf pals?”

 

Stiles was still gasping slightly, “Why don’t you ask your sister?  I’ve heard she loves to brag about it.”  

 

The two were still staring intently at one another as the memory began to speed up slightly only to stop in a new place.  

 

They were in the clearing where the decrepit Hale House was left half standing.  There was a circle of people around them.  Stiles and Jackson were there on the outskirts, something clutched in Stiles’ right palm.  Stiles’ friend Scott was standing within the circle, a gun pointed at him by that blonde--Kate-- while her apparent brother Chris stood facing her with a gun pointed at her.  The dark haired Allison girl was standing near Kate with her bow and arrow nocked but facing the ground.  Derek was on the ground bleeding.  No one was moving but words were certainly being exchanged.  

 

Kate revealed that she had indeed been behind the Hale fire and the entire pack’s murder.  The confrontation appeared to be coming to a close as she cocked her gun and aimed it towards Scott when suddenly a roar broke the silence and the monstrosity that Peter’s future self had become hurled itself out of the woods.  

 

The group watched as Peter’s future self took out everyone with guns and proceeded to drag Kate into the house.  The memory moved with Stiles as she ran into the house after Allison since no one else was capable of moving after her.  She caught up only to see Peter rip through Kate’s throat with his claws.  

 

Without giving any time for Peter to react, Stiles grabbed Allison’s hand and ran like hell out of the house.  A roar echoed behind them and Stiles took a chance to look behind her.  Immediately seeing that Peter was coming upon them, Stiles tossed Allison towards where she had last seen Scott while she shifted the bottle clasped in her other hand and proceeded to throw it.  The object hurtling at Peter’s form seemed to confuse him as he stopped only to pick out of the air to stare at it.  Without looking away from Stiles, the Peter before her was about to chuck it somewhere when an arrow came out of nowhere shattering the bottle and sending flames over the hulking form.  A great, pained howl broke through the silence.

 

The gathered group could only look on as the flames consuming the monstrous form of future Peter caused him to revert to his human self.  His flesh was charred and burning, his breaths coming out as gasps as he lay on the preserve ground.  They could only watch in muted horror as Derek strode towards his fallen Uncle, appeared to have a small exchange with Scott and then he gouged his claws straight through Peter’s throat.  He looked up, eyes glowing a threatening Alpha red.

 

Peter listened in a fog to Derek gagging in the back as he continued to look upon his burnt and torn future form.  As he looked at the figures gathered around his corpse.  Silence and static were fighting for the top position in his mind.  He couldn’t look away.  He couldn’t look anywhere but his own ruined corpse.

* * *

 

Talia watched everything play out and could not find it in herself to look away from the chaos of the future--the past that Stiles had come from.  She watched Stiles turn away from the scene and her and the Jackson boy walk away.

 

The events went back into their slide, the events moving past them slow enough to watch but not too in depth for the gathered members of her family and pack to see into them too clearly.  The girl, Lydia was still in the hospital.  She was not healing but neither was she dying. The girl’s seeming immunity intrigued Talia but she allowed that to slide by the wayside as she continued to watch the younger Stiles go through her life.  She saw the time spent between her and her young friend Scott slowly disappear and he left her behind to pursue the forbidden relationship he now had with the hunter’s daughter, she saw young Stiles take care of her father when he was too busy to do so himself and she watched Stiles begin to throw herself into researching the supernatural world.  

 

She watched as Stiles returned frequently to the hospital to see Lydia in her slumbering state, no changes occurring until eventually the girl goes missing right after screaming.  Stiles appears frantic searching for the missing young girl, stealing the abandoned hospital gown and meeting up with both Scott and the young Argent huntress to find her.  She watches a trap sprung that was set by the Chris man who had earlier threatened Stiles do the same to a now upside down Scott.  Talia sees Stiles and Scott sneak into the Argent woman’s funeral and watch as an older man--Gerard-- her wolf snarls, comes into the picture.  She watches the interactions until Stiles and Scott are spirited away by Stiles’ father and she continues to watch the memories unfold as Stiles searches everywhere she could until eventually Lydia returns, naked and shivering but unharmed in the woods.

 

The events speed up once more.  The Nogitsune version of Stiles appears to delight in showing Talia and her family only the parts of Stiles’ life she knew would garner the pack’s full attention--and their multicolored reactions to what they were seeing.  She would object to what she was showing them due solely to her glee when the gathered group begins to bow inwards at what they were seeing but Talia steeled herself each time the thought crossed her mind.  She wanted to see--to know--exactly who Stiles was.  What made her tick.  She could handle a little pain.  

 

The two figures of Stiles and Scott had somehow landed themselves outside of the principal’s office.  The sound began to filter in and the Nogitsune seemed eager to watch the expressions of Talia and her family.  They heard Scott relay to Stiles what was being said in the principal’s office.  Apparently Jackson was a neighbor to the Lahey’s and he knew that Isaac was being abused but felt that it was not his place to step in.  

 

Talia felt something tighten low in her gut.  This is what Stiles had tried to avoid.  The past that haunted her own Isaac.  The one she had made sure would not soil the Isaac she had saved due to her actions.  She heard Scott tell Stiles that Isaac had been turned into a wolf by Derek and the two were postulating between themselves why Derek had done so when the door opened to reveal not the principal of the high school but Gerard Argent himself.  Unable to help herself, Talia growled lowly as Stiles and Scott shuffled their way into the proverbial lion’s den.

 

Stiles served out her detention while Scott traipsed outside off to who knows where.  Afterwards Talia watched as the Allison girl grabs Stiles and tells her something which makes Stiles jump into her jeep, phone already to her ear and peeling away from the parking lot.  

 

The next thing she knows Derek and Stiles are inside her jeep sitting outside the Sheriff’s department arguing about something.  

 

The sound filters in: 

 

Stiles shifts in her chair to face Derek even more, “Okay, the keys to every cell are in a password protected lock box in my father's office. The only problem is getting past the front desk.” Both look inside to see a female officer manning the front desk.

 

“I'll distract her.” Was Derek’s response as he began to climb out but Stiles quickly grabbed him.

 

“Ha! Nice try but you're not going in there.” She said.  Derek only looked at her hand on his leather jacket and while Stiles’ hand twitched where it lay, it stayed there.

 

Attempting to shrug her off, Derek reminded her that he was exonerated of the crimes that  _ she and Scott _ got him arrested for in the first place. Stiles dodged the jibe and instead rolled her eyes.

 

Finally she relented after taking a moment to glance over Derek.  “Okay, fine. What's your plan?”

 

“To distract her.” He replied, his tone showing how obvious he thought his answer to be.

 

“Oh really?  And how exactly do you expect to that, huh? By punching her in the face?” Stiles sassed, giving him a mocking growl sound.  The act itself sent Peter cackling beside her.  It was the first sound she had heard from him since she and the rest of her pack had watched him be murdered by Derek. “I like her.”  Peter whispered aloud to no one in particular. 

 

The older version of Derek looked annoyed as he continued to face Stiles.  “No, you idiot.  By talking to her.”

 

Stiles held up her hands in defense. “Really?  Okay then, fine. Give me a sample. What are you gonna open with?”

 

The only response to her query was Derek saying absolutely nothing. Stiles sat there waiting and after the silence went for longer began nodding in an approving manner. “Dead silence. Yes--that should work perfectly! Any other ideas?”

 

A growl was the next response as Derek shook Stiles’ hand off his arm and stalked from the car.  Talia watched the older version of her son flirt with the officer at the front desk as Stiles snuck inside.  The memory followed Stiles as she found her father’s keys were gone and she ran into a deputy with a needle.  Stiles tried to scramble backwards but was grabbed and manhandled by the deputy until he was thrown off of her by a young man with pale skin and golden curls.  Talia froze a moment as she recognized those blonde curls and soulful blue-green eyes.   _ Isaac _ .  

 

Stiles scrambled away from the fray until her motions attracted the attentions of Isaac who had previously knocked the deputy unconscious and smashed the needle he had been carrying.  Isaac began to prowl towards where Stiles was huddled against the all but was stopped and threw himself into another corner with his hands covering his head as a loud, jarring roar broke through the stillness.  Stiles and Talia looked up to see Derek standing over Isaac’s hunched form.

 

“How--” Breathed Stiles, still gasping as she tried to stand.

 

“I’m the Alpha.” Came the cocky response which sent Stiles rolling her eyes.  

 

“You need to go--now.” There were no words as Derek and Isaac snuck out just in time before John Stilinski walked in to survey the damage.  Stiles looked around feigning confusion and suddenly pointed to the unconscious deputy at her feet and said, “He did it.”

 

Peter started laughing as the memories began to cycle through again.

* * *

 

The memories of a day in gym class came next filtering in and out as Stiles watched her fellow students go up and down a rock wall.  When she was called so was another girl.  The girl was blonde, her hair extremely frizzy and dull, her face pallid and scarred by acne, her eyes large in her extremely pale face.  

 

The group watched as the two began their trek but eventually stopped to help the girl down--Stiles right alongside her the whole way down.  The memory skipped forward a portion and suddenly the blonde girl was falling from the rock wall again only for Scott to catch her.  Stiles immediately jumped in when the girl began to have what looked like a seizure.  She kept her calm and instructed everyone on what to do and after the girl was squared away and being taken to the nurse, Stiles stepped towards a young man with brown hair who had been filming the whole episode with his phone and snapped it in half.  When the boy made an outraged sound Stiles only responded that he should bill her and stalked out.  

 

The rest of the memories continued to cycle through and everyone paused when the blonde girl from before began to walk through the cafeteria doors of Beacon Hills High.  She looked nothing like she had before.  Her hair was golden and shining and falling in soft waves on her newly tan skin.  The flesh of her face was no longer scarred but smooth and glistening with a healthy glow.  She came strutting towards where Stiles and Scott sat in leopard print heels, a tight, black mini skirt that ended somewhere on her upper thighs with a white tank top which emphasized her larger bust that was complemented with a leather jacket over it.  She eyed Stiles and Scott while she snatched an apple from a random tray, took a bite and flashed them a wink and smirk as she turned on her heel and began walking.

 

Talia watched the two jump up to follow and she watched as the young woman got in the front seat of Laura’s black camaro.  Everyone watched as Derek looked out the window towards Stiles and Scott, gave them a shit eating grin and revved the car as he and the girl shot away.

 

The memories kept cycling through: Stiles and Scott going back inside as the two argue over something--undoubtedly Derek turning another of their classmates.  Followed by Stiles making her way through the rest of her courses, driving herself home, making dinner for her father and putting it away to leave a note on the fridge, changing briefly into warmer clothes than what she had been wearing earlier, and leaving her house to drive towards the ice rink where she met Scott, Allison and the Lydia girl.  

 

Stiles pulled a set of keys from her pocket and opened the door of the ice rink.  The four paired off--a double date it would seem.  Lydia appeared to be extremely skilled at skating on ice--perhaps even figure skating.  The four were having fun, flirting with one another and laughing as individuals took time falling until finally the group watched along with Stiles as Lydia began to look pensive and glided towards some spot on the ice where she proceeded to bend down to her knees, wipe away the shredded ice, and began shrieking.  

 

The high pitched noise caught not only the attentions of the people in the memory but it also sent a spike of pain splintering into the gathered pack around Talia.  That noise sounded so familiar but the clarity that it had brought quickly dissipated as everyone returned back to the memory only for it to shift forward once more.

 

The group watched Stiles and Scott approach the blonde girl the next day and they finally hear her name.  _ Erica. _  They could feel something was coming but they also knew that whatever it was had already happened--at least for Stiles--so their need to do something was more or less useless.  

 

They watched as Stiles, Scott and Allison sat together at lunch until Allison eventually left leaving Stiles and Scott alone.  The two talked until Stiles froze and motioned towards an empty table.  Serious expressions settled atop their faces as they moved to stand up and continue their days.

 

Memories skipped ahead again until Stiles was standing outside of a strange house looking for something.  Since Stiles had only her dull human senses to guide her, it was not surprising that she jumped when she turned to suddenly see Erica behind her.  

 

“What are you doing here, Stiles?”  Stiles looked everywhere but where Erica stood before her.  

 

She laughed awkwardly, “Uh, nothing, I was just looking for, um -”

“Boyd?”

“Yeah. Yes. Boyd.  That’s right.  That’s why I’m here...at his house.” Stiles’ attention finally landed on Erica’s face, her eyes in particular.  They were a lovely brown shade, Talia noted absently.

 

“You know what you're doing right now that's kind of funny? You're only looking in my eyes.” The group watched Erica adjust on the balls of her feet as she surveyed Stiles.

 

Stiles looked confused.  “That's funny?”

 

“Well, yeah, it is because it's that kind of look where you're trying not to look anywhere other than my eyes, but you want to, don't you? You want a nice, long, hard - look.” The words were low and purred, designed to enact a response especially with that last command in her voice.

 

Stiles began to blush slightly but she did not remove her eyes from Erica’s face despite the blonde girl adjusting herself to make looking down more enticing for Stiles.  “You do realize that I am indeed female thus your words aren’t doing too much for me, right?” Stiles drawled.

 

Delight sparkled in Erica’s eyes, “Oh trust me Stiles, I definitely know you’re a female.  And trust me, that’s not a problem.  If you’d like I can just change those words around for you?  Make them much more--”

 

“No.  Nope, all good, promise.  It’s,” Stiles continued to sputter and twitch but her eyes moved no further than Erica’s own. “I get what you’re saying.”

 

Erica purred slightly, “I’d hope so.”

Stiles seemed to take everything occurring in stride even as a deep blush worked it’s way across her features.  Suddenly, Stiles straightened and began to make her way around Erica who was still staring intently--hungrily-- Talia would say, at her.  “Congrats on the new self-confidence Erica--it looks amazing on you. I should really get going now.”

 

Stiles found herself ground to a halt as Erica reached out her left hand to snag a fist full of Stiles’ jacket.  Her eyes were bright and her lips large and pouty as she said, “I’m sorry, Stiles but you're not going anywhere.”

 

The group could hear Stiles’ heartbeat increase slightly even as she maintained a straight face.  “Why not?”

 

A grin that could only be described as feral graced Erica’s face, “You're having car trouble.”

 

And everything went black after the family saw an engine part coming towards Stiles’ head.

 

“Damn.”  Hissed Laura somewhere to the left of Talia.  She could only nod in agreeance as the memories started up once more.

 

Suddenly the group was inside a mechanic’s garage.  From what Talia could tell, Stiles’ jeep was up in the air being looked at while the mechanic and Stiles argued about something regarding it.  Apparently the mechanic was overcharging Stiles and eventually she tossed her arms up in the air and marched away into a small viewing room.

 

They watched her pause at the door, her hand coated in some type of fluid that she tried to rub off while shouting back towards the mechanic.  Something shifted when suddenly Stiles’ phone clattered from her grip to smash on the floor.  Stiles suddenly looked up and everyone gathered around her saw some kind of scaled, lizard creature the size of a human being crawl down the side of her suspended jeep.  

 

The group watched in vain as she tried to shout out some kind of warning that came out as little more than a puff of air.  The creature moved and scratched the mechanic across the back of the neck and seeing this, Stiles tried to move but suddenly, she fell to the floor and lay there face down.  Paralyzed, Talia realized. 

 

Stiles’ prone form had fallen to the floor but she could still see outside the small window that allowed any viewers in the room the sight of the work happening in the room beyond.  This allowed the rest of the invisible people standing around her to see what she was seeing.  They all watched as the mechanic also fell to the garage floor.  They all saw the creature slice through the cables attached to the hydraulics that held Stiles' jeep aloft.  And they all saw as her jeep began to slowly descend on top of the fallen man. Somehow, Stiles managed to dial 911 but when she attempted to call out for help, no sound escaped and thus she was forced, like her surrounding audience, to do nothing except hear the mechanic's pleas for help.  The group watched as Stiles closed her eyes undoubtedly in an attempt to block out seeing the mechanic’s soon to be gruesome death. The shrieks got louder until finally there was only silence.  And then the creature suddenly came up to the glass door of the waiting area and hissed directly at her, making Stiles shut her eyes tightly and lay there upon the floor defenseless.

 

The memories began to cycle through yet again.  The sheriff’s deputies came and began to look over the crime scene, Stiles’ father arrived and questioned her to which Stiles lied her way out and left, forced to leave her jeep behind.  Stiles and Scott met at the school the next day.  The group watched as Stiles appeared to pour her heart out to Scott until she pulled away and shook everything off and told him that she couldn’t play the messenger between Scott and Allison because it was too weird professing Allison’s romantic love to her pseudo-brother.  The memories kept cycling through.  

 

The group finds themselves in the middle of a lacrosse game.  Stiles sitting on the sidelines cheering Scott on as he and others continue running across the field.  Then Stiles is snagging keys from Allison that she passes to her and the group follows Stiles as she makes her way towards the school.  They see her swerve to talk with Lydia who appeared to be crying and then she departs once more heading into the school and eventually uses the keys to break into Gerard’s office.  Stiles rifles through the desk and paperwork searching for the bestiary that Scott and her had mentioned earlier but when she looks up Erica is there staring at her.  

 

“Hello, Stiles.”  A grin in the dark.

 

Following Stiles as she was literally dragged across the school into the pool was not what the group had expected.  What they expected even less was that Derek was standing inside waiting for them to arrive.  

 

“Hello, Stiles.”  Derek drawled, moving a baskeball slowly between both of his palms.  “Tell me what happened in the garage.”

 

“Nah.  I think I’m good.  Thanks though.  Nice to know you were worried.”

 

Stiles made to turn around but Erica was right there staring at her so she faced towards Derek once more.  It was then that she commented on the basketball in his hands and sarcastically stated that should he wish to play that game he should relocate to the courts since they were in an indoor pool.  The only response was for Derek to skewer the basketball on his claws and look expectantly at Stiles.  

 

Rolling her eyes but acquiescing Stiles told Derek everything that she had seen at the mechanics.  When Stiles had finished speaking a hissing noise filled the room directly behind where she was standing.  Whirling around, Stiles saw the lizard creature sprawled across the ground staring at all of them.  Derek growled and Stiles backed up towards him when suddenly Erica was sent colliding into the wall where she slumped unconscious.  Derek turned around quickly to shove Stiles and tell her to run but that moment cost him as the lizard scraped him across the back of the neck.  Stiles and the Hale pack watched as Derek suddenly lurched and began to fall forward.  Rather than run towards the exit to save herself, she skidded next to Derek to begin to drag him out around the pool.

 

“Do you see it?” Gasped Stiles as she stumbled under Derek’s dead weight.

 

“No but I can smell it.  Call Scott.”  He ordered.

 

Stiles held on to Derek tightly as she tried to fumble out her phone with her non-dominant hand and the phone slid and clattered to the ground.  Stiles cursed and immediately dropped to the ground to grab it.  She forgot about the bundle she was holding previously until a splash caught her attention and she looked towards the pool to see Derek sinking fast.  Abandoning her phone to the floor, Stiles threw herself into the water, delving deep until she reached Derek where she wrapped his left arm around the back of her neck and pushed off from the bottom of the pool.  They broke through the surface breathing in deep and Stiles looked around wildly for the creature which stood at the edge of the pool and began to stalk in front of it as she adjusted Derek’s slackened arm.  Talia could see that Stiles was the only thing keeping both herself and Derek afloat.  

 

Talia could tell that Stiles’ strength was flagging.  She had been holding Derek and herself up, treading water for a little over two hours now as the creature continued to roam the border of the pool looking for a way to get to them.  Stiles’ heart was pounding, her breaths rasping in and out.  Stiles was only human.  She would not hold out much longer.  Loathe as Talia was to admit it--especially with what she had already seen the girl capable of-- she knew that eventually Stiles would succumb to her body’s fatigue.

 

Talia saw Stiles glance towards where her phone lay forgotten on the tile floor beside the pool and she saw a calculated gleam come over the glossy tiredness that had been weighing on her before.  

 

She gasped out, “I don’t think I can do this for much longer.”

 

Derek appeared to have gathered what she had said and compared it to where she had been looking.  “Don’t even think about it.”  He snarled.  Stiles splashed water in his face in retaliation even if the movement cost her and the two dipped slightly in the water.  

 

“You don’t tell me what to do.  Now would you just trust me?”

 

“No,” Came a wet gasp, “I don’t trust you.”

 

Everyone present could see the hurt that Derek’s comment generated but she rallied around it and glared at him instead.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the one holding up your heavy werewolf ass.   _ I’m  _ the one keeping you alive.  In case you haven’t noticed.”

 

“You’re only doing it because you need me to survive.  If you didn’t you would have let me drown already and saved yourself.” He paused briefly to drag in a ragged breath, “You need me so that you can survive which is why you are _not_ going to let me go.”

 

“Oh really?”  She sassed back, “Watch me!”  And with that Stiles let Derek go to propel herself across the pool towards her phone.  The creature was nowhere in sight but the assembled group knew that the creature would not have left it’s prey.  She watched splitting her attention between Stiles grasping at her phone and Derek sinking even deeper into the pool.

 

They heard Stiles draw in a rapid gasp and choke out, “Scott!  We’re at the pool we ne--”

 

And then a dial tone.  Stiles looked insulted and angry as she looked at the phone but then she straightened, threw her phone down and shot beneath the water to grasp at Derek and tug him back up to the surface.  Both breathing heavily and blinking the water from their eyes.  

 

Talia watched Derek drag in deep breaths, “Tell me you got through.”

 

Stiles didn’t respond.  She only continued to tread water holding both Derek and herself above the surface.  

 

Stiles began looking towards the side of the pool once more and finding whatever she was looking for, she began to pull Derek with her.  Her strength was flagging--the two of them slipping beneath the water more than they had previously as she struggled to move closer to the edge.  

 

“Stiles, what’re you doing?”  

 

“I need,” she gasped, “something to hang on to.”  The two got closer to edge--close enough that Stiles reached out her free hand to grasp the rung beneath the diving board but she was still too far and her grip slipped and they began to sink into the water.

 

The water went up to their necks and slowly pooled over their heads.  They were drowning--the Hale Pack was below the water watching Stiles and Derek drown when suddenly hands plunge in and throw the two near drowned individuals to the tile.  Stiles looked back long enough to see Scott standing on the diving board, roaring at whatever the hell that creature was.  She lay there coughing up water and feeling her muscles burn and protest at any hint of movement.  

 

Scott clambered down after the creature retreated following their scuffle.  He knelt near Stiles to help her sit up as he looked at Derek whose movements were finally starting to come back to him.  The two--as well as their silent audience--watched as Derek drug his limp body over towards where Erica was still out cold.  

 

“What the hell was that?” Scott was looking between Stiles and Derek for an answer.

 

“It’s a kanima.”

 

Stiles glared in Derek’s direction and breathed out harshly, “You knew what it was and you didn’t feel like sharing?”  She lurched forward as though she was going to get up but a small groan fell from her lips and she slumped back into Scott who lifted her up and set her on the bench near where Erica and Derek were laying.  

 

Talia was taken aback.  She had heard the rumors surrounding a creature called the Kanima but she had never seen it before.  She had never come across someone she knew talking about one from experience.  She remembered that Stiles had let slip that she and her pack had defeated a Kanima but she had thought she was just talking about shadows.  The only thing she heard was Derek marching out with an unconscious Erica still in his arms as he vowed to kill the creature...the person who was the creature.  She had blocked out the conversation that they had had and now found herself staring at the straight back of her only son.  What had happened to her beautiful, happy baby boy who never wanted to kill anyone?

 

Her only answer was the memories cycling once more.  

 

Another day at the high school only this time Isaac is there once more.  The group learns that Derek is hunting for the Kanima and believes it to be Lydia due to her not changing into a werewolf from Peter’s ministrations.  They can only watch as they see the teenagers all attempt to keep one another safe and keep Lydia from Derek’s budding pack members.  Lydia consumes a portion of the Kanima venom and remains unaffected leading the groups to begin devising plans to either kill Lydia or protect her.  They watch as the school day ends and Lydia, Stiles, Allison, and Jackson eventually find themselves sequestered in Scott’s house awaiting an attack by Derek and his fledgling pack.  They watched as Stiles and Allison defend themselves and their friends upstairs from the attacks of Isaac and Erica until Scott comes and helps them.  They watch as Erica and Isaac are thrown out of the house towards Derek, they see him and Scott hash out an argument, they hear the sirens approaching and before the remainder of Derek’s pack goes to leave they see Lydia rush out demanding to know what’s happening.  They also see the Kanima perched atop the house.

 

The memories pick up speed.

 

Stiles finding Scott and the two searching for the Kanima, the trail leading them into a gay club.  The colors and sounds and lights pulsing everywhere as the two continued to seek out the creature that had brought them there.  Bodies of patrons begin to fall and chaos reigns as Derek comes swooping in and attacks the Kanima only for him to disappear, Derek along with him.  People are being wheeled out and Scott finds a blood covered Jackson in the back of a car.  Scott bundles him up and puts him in Stiles’ jeep but they find themselves delayed when Stiles’ father appears.  Stiles and her father appear to have some kind of argument that ends with both looking frustrated but Stiles eventually returns and the group makes their get away.  

 

They lock Jackson up in a stolen Sheriff’s department transport and hold him there for hours trying to talk with him about something none of them can hear.  Eventually the ruse is up and Stiles and Scott are dragged to the Sheriff’s station while Jackson is released.  There is another argument between Stiles and her father and then the memories keep going, blowing passed whatever was next .  

 

The next image showed the trio of Allison, Stiles, and Scott meeting in the library exchanging clues and information as though they were hiding from someone or something.  They see the group disperse and Stiles get accosted by Erica after her conversation with Lydia.  They see the aftermath of the fight break out which resulted in the group of teens landing in detention in the library where all hell breaks loose shortly after.  

 

In the aftermath Stiles and Scott leave carrying a seizing Erica.  They carry her to where Derek seems to be based--an underground subway station which Talia glares at.  Her son should not be  _ squatting  _ in the shadows, hiding away from the light.  Talia can feel her claws begin to press into her palms but she pushes the feeling back.  Now is  _ not  _ the time.  

 

Talia watches Stiles bring her father dinner and them begin to piece together all of the current crimes.  She watches the dynamic they have and she watches as the puzzle falls together sending Stiles rushing out of the door.  

 

The memories cycled by once more until the silent group was delivered into Deaton’s back office.  They watch silently as the man hands Stiles a bag of mountain ash and tells her that she needs to make a circular barrier around where the Kanima is so that they could trap it.  Stiles appeared skeptical but agreed. 

 

The Nogitsune version of Stiles takes a step forward now, reminding everyone of her lurking presence.  “There’s a fun little bit I just want to see...hope you all don't mind!”  She didn’t wait for a response as she sent the group hurtling into a memory with the sound already blaring through.

 

Stiles was gathering everything to head somewhere--undoubtedly the place that she would need to use her abilities for.  Something caught her attention before she was about to walk out.  She opened the door and everyone gathered around her noticed the Sheriff making his way up the driveway. 

 

He had a strange look on his face and he walked right past Stiles as if she wasn't there at all.

 

“Hey, daddy-o. What's wrong?” She asked as she closed the door to watch him shuffle forward.   The man turned from where he had been trudging to pin Stiles with an inscrutable look.  

“Nothing.” Was all he replied. 

 

Stiles’ face indicated that she didn't believe him. Looking him over Stiles began to catalogue anything and everything and as she searched him with her eyes, she noticed  his gun wasn't in his holster where it should still be.

 

“Oh. Where's your gun?” She softly challenged.

 

A deep sigh as he rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand.  “I left it at the station along with my badge.”  The response caused Stiles to flinch back and still before she attempted to reorient herself.  

 

“What?”

 

Another deep sigh fell from the Sheriff’s lips.  “It's all right. We'll talk about this later.” The man began to walk away from where the two had been standing, his shoulders curved inwards.

 

“Dad?” Stiles tried.

 

“Don't worry about it.” His voice was soft but the werewolves around her could hear the tone beneath it and looking at Stiles’ face, it was obvious that she too could hear the disappointment in his voice.

 

“Dad.” She tried again.

 

The Sheriff stopped his trudging forward to stand with his back still facing Stiles but his head turned towards her position.  “It was decided by someone that having the Sheriff’s  _ daughter  _ stealing police property and having a restraining order filed against her by one of the town's most respected attorneys did not reflect well on the county or me as a parent.”

 

Stiles took a step towards her father and halted.  “Are you saying they fired you?”  Her voice was soft, worried.

 

“Nah. Look, it's just a leave of absence. It's temporary. Don't worry about it though. We're going to be fine." The Sheriff told her.  He may have been trying to reassure her but his voice was too low, his posture too defeated for it to actually mean anything.

 

“Dad...I don't get it. Why aren't you angry at me?” 

 

The Sheriff let out his heaviest sigh at this and responded, “I don't know. Maybe I just don't want to feel any worse than I already do by having to yell at my daughter." With those parting words the Sheriff walked away, leaving Stiles alone in the hall.  

 

“Mmmm scrumptious.  Poor little Stiles.  Always the fuck up.”  The Nogitsune was quickly getting on Talia’s nerves once more and as low growls emanated from the rest of her family, she could tell that she was not alone in the feeling.  In response to the growls, the cracked facade smiled wider and shushed them before she sent the group on.

 

Flashing forwards shows Stiles walking around a nondescript building with loud music pounding with the bag full of mountain ash.  At this point Deaton steps closer to where Talia is standing to better observe what the younger version of Stiles is doing.  

 

“Do you think that your future self knew that she had abilities even then?” 

 

Talia’s query was answered with an enigmatic shrug and when she loosed a slight growl in his direction, her Deaton eyed her once before acquiescing.  “It is possible that I sensed something then.  Or perhaps it was the fact that she was the only human within the group of werewolves who could handle the mountain ash.  I presume we will soon find out.”  He nodded towards where the younger Stiles appears to have run out of ash.

 

There was still a strip of about 50 feet left to complete the circle she needed to do.  Stiles began cursing silently to herself as she quickly tries to call someone whose phone appears to go straight to voicemail.

 

“Scott, pick up. Pick up now. Look, I got, like, 50 feet of ash left, and I'm out. Okay? So you got to get your wolf ass down here to  _ help _ me because I don't know what to do. And I'm just standing out here and I'm– And I'm all  _ alone _ ,” Suddenly gunfire, screaming and the sound of werewolves howling broke through the night air making her jump. “And I'm hearing gunfire and werewolves, and I'm– and I'm standing here like a frickin' idiot all by myself with a handful of magic fairy dust. And I don't have enough.” 

 

Talia kept an eye both on the younger version of Stiles and on Deaton who had begun to sidle next to Stiles to watch her and her actions.  It was clear that he was intrigued.  He had only met Stiles when she had her abilities.  How interesting it must be now to see the woman who had terrified him so young and clueless--without her abilities.  She watched Stiles hang up the phone and stare down at the pathetically small pile of ash still left in her hand and compared it to the distance that still needed to be covered to contain the entirety of the warehouse.

 

The group watched Stiles settle on something and then proceed to gather her wits about her.  “Okay? Okay, come on, think.  He said you’ve got to believe. You  _ need _ to believe. Come on, believe, Stiles. Just, uh– just picture it. Just imagine it working, okay? Just– imagine.”  With these words settling her she slowly began to walk with her eyes closed, while dropping the ash onto the ground.  Suddenly, without warning, Stiles opened her eyes and looked down to see that she had been able to complete the circle with the handful of ash she had had left.  She fist pumped in the air to celebrate while Deaton nodded invisibly beside her in approval.

 

Skipping forward, the group watched as Stiles, Isaac and Erica were questioning an obviously drugged and half changed Jackson.  The words that the possessed boy were saying left Talia uneasy but when he began to shift and lunge for the trio is when Stiles grabbed the two young betas and shoved them out of the door before she followed them out.  They ran as one to the outskirts of the building they had been inside.  They ran until Stiles was beside Derek and when she turned to look back at where Isaac and Erica were she began laughing and slapping Derek’s arm as she celebrated the fact that what she had done had actually worked.  Suddenly Derek’s head snapped up as a howl rent the air.  He pushed Stiles’ to break the line and she did--all without having to touch it which caused Deaton to raise his eyebrows.  He was impressed, intrigued.  

Talia returned her attention to see that the group had been spirited away once more to coast along the tops of Stiles’ memories.  Suddenly Stiles is at a party in a large, lavish house.  Everyone is dancing and drinking except for Stiles who is standing out of the way watching things unfold while sipping from a cup of some kind of punch.  A sudden commotion grinds everything to a halt.  Talia recognizes the voice that begins shouting and the shouting causes Stiles to look up and freeze.

 

Standing at the back doors of the back patio is the Sheriff dressed in a black suit with a bottle of whiskey that’s nearly empty, swinging from his loose grip.  Talia sees Stiles’ breath stop in her chest as they all watch the scene unfold before them.

 

The Nogitsune chimes in briefly, “Ooh this is one of my favorite moments.  Things are starting to get interesting.”  Before anyone can growl at her or question her words, every one’s attention is dragged back towards the commotion.

 

“Why am I wearing black? What are you, an  _ idiot _ ? I just came from a funeral. You know, people wear black at funerals.” The angry voice yelled at some drunk kid.

 

“Dude, chill. It was just-” the guy responded.

 

“Get out of my face.” The Sheriff snarled as he stomped beyond the teen he had been talking to.  He appeared to be looking for someone and eventually his attention fell to Stiles. His eyes were angry and red-rimmed, no doubt from crying.  The invisible group was silent as they watched on along with all of the people who had been there that night. 

 

The drunken man stumbled towards Stiles pointing.  “It's you.  Every day I saw her lying in that hospital slowly  _ dying _ , I thought, "How the hell am I supposed to raise this stupid kid on my own? This hyperactive little  _ bitch  _ who keeps  _ ruining  _ my life?”” Stiles flinched back as though slapped, silver lining her eyes, her lips trembling slightly.  No one said anything as they kept watching. “It's all you. It's you,  _ Stiles _ . You killed your mother. You killed her. And now you're killing  _ me _ .” And with that final stab at his daughter, the man threw the liquor bottle at Stiles who ducked just in time. 

 

Talia and everyone else was thrown as suddenly the music filtered back in and the glass bottle never shattered because it was as though the Sheriff had never been there.  Everyone was still dancing and laughing and making out and drinking--like nothing ever happened.  Stiles was shaking, tears sliding down her face before she wiped them away and set her face in a blank mask.  

 

The group watched Stiles move throughout the party until she collapsed near the pool, leaning back against the wall with her eyes beginning to glaze over then slowly fall shut.  Everyone at the party seemed to be drifting within an odd haze, slipping in and out of awareness.  The alcohol the teens no doubt imbibed had a hand in the fugue state the teens were in but the hairs on the back of Talia’s arms raised as the raucous party continued on, the world hazing unpleasantly.  Her wolf began to rumble threateningly and Talia found herself glad when Scott and some girl dunked Stiles under the pool water to sober her up sending the fog dissipating slightly.  She then watched as Stiles and Scott heard shouts about not being able to swim and then a body was sailing into the pool where they proceeded to thrash and sink until they were pulled out by Jackson.

 

Shouts ring out about the cops showing and suddenly the memories are sprawling again.  The pair was suddenly in front of the real Sheriff and are currently trying to convince him of this Matt’s guilt while proving the previous suspect innocent.  The Sheriff appears skeptical even as Stiles passionately continues to point out the evidence she has to prove his guilt.  Talia watches as the Sheriff glosses over what Stiles says to look towards Scott for some measure of proof as though his daughter’s word was not enough.  When Scott agreed, the Sheriff jumped into action and the trio quickly put the puzzle pieces together.  

 

Stiles started to walk out towards the front of the Sheriff’s station until she stumbles upon the corpse of the front desk deputy with her throat sliced.  Talia watched Stiles turn around to come face to face with a gun, the barrel pointed right between her eyes.  Stiles straightened, her hands dropping to her sides while her eyes flickered in her frightened face.  Matt began to lead Stiles around the station with the gun to her head.  The assembled group could only watch as the young girl was forced to handcuff her father outside of the cells and as she was forced to leave him as she and Scott were pushed down the hall due to the gun still pointing at her head.  Stiles apparently was not scared enough not to question and sass her captor which made a dark grin spread on his lips as he continued to motion with his pilfered weapon.  

 

The group watched Stiles and Scott being forced to destroy all of the evidence that had been gathered on the previous crimes that Matt was being linked to and Stiles began to babble in an effort to get Matt to leave and spare the living people still inside the station but they all froze when the sound of a car arriving spilled into the room.

 

Matt’s face twisted with a cruel smirk, “Sounds like you’re mom’s here, McCall.”  He gestured with the gun for the two to move out of the doorway even as Scott attempted to plead for his mother to be left alone, left alive.

 

Matt clicked the safety off, the sound loud in the previous stillness, and pointed it at Stiles’ head and announced that if Scott did not open the door, Matt would shoot Stiles in the head first and then kill his mother right in front of him.  While Stiles’ eyes pleaded for Scott not to follow through, Scott instead listened and opened the door.  Everyone stopped as suddenly Derek’s form was standing in the open space.  Stiles sagged slightly as it was revealed but she also seemed to notice that Derek was shaking and extremely pale and that was the least of her worries as suddenly he collapsed forward showing the half transformed Kanima just behind him, claws gleaming with the paralytic it produced.  

 

Despite falling forward, Derek turned to land on his back and the gathered pack watched him take in the room.  It was obvious through the words spoken that Derek was annoyed and Matt mischievous as he announced his knowledge of the supernatural before he turned his attention towards Stiles once more asking her what manner of creature she was, a spark of amusement as he pontificated on how everyone but her appeared to be special but Stiles being Stiles only threw back her sarcastic, straight-faced answer without missing a beat.   _ An abominable snowman?  Really? _

 

The pack watched as Matt jerked his head and suddenly Stiles collapsed face first atop Derek from the Kanima’s venom.  The sound of another car arriving has the small group freezing again, especially as Matt’s attention was grabbed by it.  He stood from where he had been previously kneeling beside Stiles and Derek’s fallen figures to face Scott. “Is that her? Do what I tell you to and I won't hurt her. I won't even let Jackson near her.”

 

“Scott, don't trust him!” Stiles shouted. Without giving anyone time to move, Matt had drug Stiles off of Derek to the ground beside him.  The group watched as Matt wrapped his unoccupied hand around her neck and began to squeeze.  Her gasps were rasping, her lungs trying to work to get in the air that they could not.  

 

Matt only squeezed a smidge tighter and glanced towards Scott as though he wasn’t choking the life out of anyone.  “This work better for ya?”

 

“Okay, just stop! Stop!” Scott pleaded but made no move towards Matt.  The group watched as Matt didn't loosen his grip on Stiles’ neck but instead tightened it, sending Stiles’ gasps into a faster trot.  

 

He looked Scott in the eye as he said, “Then do what I tell you to.”

 

Scott looked manic as he pleaded, “Okay. All right. Stop!”  Finally satisfied, Matt finally released his grip and Stiles let out a litany of coughs and gasps as her lungs worked to replenish her air supply.

 

Scott, Matt and Jackson all left the two collapsed figures on the ground and the group watched the two snark at each other from their paralyzed positions.  A gunshot rang out which sent panic screaming through Stiles’ eyes but she didn’t miss a beat in sassing Derek back and asking how the hell they were going to get out of their current situation.  

 

Derek’s blood was seeping out on the floor when suddenly the overhead lights went out and the red emergency lights came on and sirens began blaring--then the gunfire started.  Apparently enough of his healing ability had been stimulated that Derek was able to move and Scott came careening out from where he was to grab Stiles and half-drag her out of the way.  Once he finds a place to leave her where she will no longer be in danger, Scott runs off.  He does not see Stiles as she flops herself onto her chest and begins to pull her dead weight across the floor.  The pack keeps pace with her as she pants, gasps, growls, and claws her way towards the cells where her father is.  She arrives just in time to see her father break free from his restraints and then be coldcocked by Matt and his borrowed weapon.  She can do nothing but lay on the floor, grasping fruitlessly at the air that separates her from her unconscious father.  

 

The memories cycle once more but Talia cannot forget the tears and frustration and fear that had glistened in Stiles’ eyes as she continued to stare at her fallen father.  The room reformed in a bland tan room with kitschy motivational posters upon the walls.  Stiles was sitting slumped restringing what looked like a lacrosse stick.  Talia recognized Deaton’s sister Morrell sitting across from Stiles and she wondered what had led the two to meet.  It seemed she did not have long to wait as Stiles opened her mouth, concentration still on the stick within her hands.

 

“You know when you're drowning, you don't actually inhale until right before you black out. It's called voluntary apnea.”  She paused briefly, “It's like no matter how much you're freaking out, the instinct to not let any water in is so strong that you won't open your mouth until you feel like your head's exploding.”  Her hand tightened on the net she was threading before she continued, “But then when you finally do let it in, that's when it stops hurting. It's not scary anymore. It's actually kind of peaceful.”

 

Morrell was silent as she watched the young girl before her, “Are you saying you hope Matt felt some peace in his last moments?”

 

Stiles scoffed slightly and shook her head, “I don't feel sorry for him.”

 

Morrell nodded in apparent understanding, “What about the nine year old Matt that drowned?”

 

“I can feel sorry for the nine year old...after all, he was just a kid.  But that doesn't excuse him for killing people.”  Stiles’ fingers tightened once more before relaxing incrementally.   

 

“One positive thing came out of this, though. Right?”  Morrell questioned which caused Talia to quirk her head.

 

“I guess.  Dad got his job back but...things haven't been the same. There’s just this  _ tension _ when we talk. Same thing with Scott.”  She admitted.

 

“Have you talked to him since that night?”

 

“No, not really. He has his own problems to deal with,” Stiles paused before continuing, “Same goes with Allison, though it's more her choice really. Her mother's death hit her hard, but it did bring her and her father closer and Jackson hasn't been himself really.” Stiles paused once more to let out a bitter chuckle, “Really out of all of us Lydia is the only one that actually seems to be normal.”  Stiles’ hands were clutching at the mesh she kept stringing, her hands flexing over and over, the knuckles nearly white.

 

Silence filled the room as Stiles continued to look down at the stick in her hands while Morell observed her.  “And what about you, Stiles?” Morrell finally broached. “Like for example, are you feeling some anxiety about that championship game tomorrow night?”

 

“Why would you ask me that?” Stiles looked down once more as though finally noticing what she had been fiddling with the entire time, “Ah. A bit. I mean one of the players is dead and the other's missing. So yeah you could say that I'm a bit off.”

 

“Isaac. One of the three runaways. You haven't heard from any of them, have you?”

 

Stiles’ eyes tightened and she evaded the question with one of her own, “How come you're not taking any notes on this?”

 

“I do my notes after the session.” Morrell revealed patiently.

 

“Your memory's that good?” Stiles asked, the disbelief plain on her face.

 

Morrell shifted slightly to place her palms together on the desk before her, “How about we get back to you? Stiles?”

 

“I'm fine.” Stiles replied quickly as though she had not just had her mind elsewhere.  “I mean, aside from the  _ not _ sleeping, the jumpiness, the constant, overwhelming, crushing fear that something terrible is about to happen. I'm just peachy.”  A strained smile filled her face.

 

Morrell was not to be swayed, “It's called hyper-vigilance, the persistent feeling of being under threat.”

 

Stiles shuffled in her chair and set the lacrosse stick across her knees.  “It's not just a feeling though. It's-it's like a panic attack. Like I can't even breathe.”

 

“Like you're drowning?” Stiles nodded quickly, seemingly not trusting her mouth to answer for her. “So if you're drowning, and you're trying to keep your mouth closed until that very last moment, what if you choose to not open your mouth? To not let the water in?”

 

Stiles sent a look towards Morrell which conveyed so many things that Talia could not pick out.  She did find disbelief chiefly among them however as Stiles opened own mouth to respond. “You do anyway. It's a reflex.”

 

Morrell leaned forwards slightly, “But if you don't give in, you have more time right?”

“Not much time.” She deadpanned, her face blank.

 

“But more time to fight your way to the surface?  More time to be rescued?” Stiles shrugged.

 

Stiles remained still and staring at Morrell,“More time to be in  _ agonizing _ pain.  Remember the whole head exploding thing?”

 

Morrell leaned closer, her face serious.  “If it's about  _ survival _ , isn't a little agony worth it?” Stiles only looked at her.

 

“But what if it just gets worse? __ What if it's agony now and then– and it's just hell later on?” Came the quiet response.

 

“Then think about something Winston Churchill once said--“If you're going through hell, keep going.”” 

 

The memories cycled again.  Suddenly the sounds of a cheering crowd and the thuds of bodies hitting each other fills the air until the images solidify.  Stiles and Scott are sitting together on a bench as the rest of the people appear to be cheering on a game of lacrosse.  They’re talking about the events of the past and what exactly they should be expecting to happen now.  

 

“This is going to bad, isn't it? Like people screaming, running for their lives, blood, killing, maiming kind of bad?” Stiles’ voice broke through.

 

“Looks like it.” Was all Scott replied.

 

Stiles glanced at Scott's face and swiveled to have her attention on him, “Scott you're doing the best you can. At least you can do  _ something _ . I mean, the other night with Matt and seeing him hurt my dad, while I couldn't move…I’ve never felt so helpless in my life, but I want to help, you know, but I can't do the things that you can do. I can't--”  Stiles floundered until her speech fell into silence.

 

“It's okay.” Scott was quick to assure her but Stiles only shook her head. “No, it's not okay. We're  _ losing _ , dude.”

 

Suddenly Coach Finstock appeared behind them, making the two jump. “The hell are you talking about? Game hasn't even started. Now put on the helmet and get out there.” He barked at Stiles.  Scott and Stiles only glanced at one another in confusion before facing the coach.  

 

“Coach, I was just supposed to be here on the bench so you could hit the numbers you needed for the team.  I’m not even really on the team.”  Stiles breathed out, eyes wide.

 

“Nonsense!” Coach steamed over her, “You’ve always been part of the team Bilinski.  Now get your ass on the field.”  He didn’t even wait for a reply before he walked away from them leaving the duo gaping after him. 

 

The memories come faster as they watch the game play out.  They watch the coaches argue about Stiles being put on the team while Stiles shies away from the attention until Finstock throws up a hand and threatens the other coach with a rousing rendition of the “She’s The Man” speech which throws the invisible group off but has Stiles trying to hide a laugh.  They watch the coach relent and the game begin.  Stiles stutters and steps throughout the game, dropping the ball more than anything, getting tackled at every chance.  

 

Beacon Hills is losing and multiple team members are dropping like flies.  Scott and Isaac disappear at some point and suddenly the crowd is screaming Stiles’ name as she makes a goal.  The tide of the game turns and the group silently cheers along with the crowd as Stiles continues to make goals and eventually wins the game for her team.  They watch Stiles throw off her helmet and cheer, her eyes shining and a grin splitting her face--something no one had seen in their own time.  They see the crowds surrounding her and cheering her for winning and then suddenly the lights on the field go out and screams of a different nature begin to ring out until silence is the only thing they hear in the blackness.

 

The memories cycle sluggishly as the Nogitsune steps forward.  “This is where things start to get fun.”

 

Talia feels her stomach tighten at the creature’s words.  The memories refocus in a blur as Stiles appears to be shoved down a flight of stairs where she’s left sprawled on the cold concrete.  “Ow.”  

 

The group watched as Stiles felt along the walls until she came upon a light switch which she quickly flipped.  They could tell when her vision cleared because she gasped as she took in the beaten and bloodied bodies of Erica and Boyd hanging from the ceiling by the chains around their wrists, their mouths gagged.  

 

Stiles shuffled closer to the hanging pair putting a finger to her lips as the two began to struggle within their bindings and making muffled noises. “Shh.” Stiles touched the tape and reeled backwards at a shock which caused the basement lights to flicker.

 

“They were trying to warn you. It's electrified.” The familiar voice sounded behind her. The assorted group growled as they took notice of Gerard standing at the bottom of the basement stairs.  Talia’s stomach dropped as an image of Stiles’ scarred flesh popped into her mind, there and gone in an instant.

 

“What are you doing with them?” Stiles asked, her voice strong.

 

Gerard looked behind where Stiles was standing to the two hanging behind her, “At the moment, just keeping them comfortable. There's no point in  _ torturing _ them, they won't give Derek up. The instinct to protect their Alpha's too strong.”  Gerard had the gall to look upset at what he was saying.

 

“Okay. So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me, all right? He knows my scent. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine.”

 

“You have a knack for creating a vivid picture, Ms. Stilinski.” Gerard praised as he shifted, “Let me paint one of my own: Scott McCall finding his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp.  How does that sound?” 

 

“You know, I think I might prefer more of a still life or landscape, you know?”  Stiles began to back away but stopped to stare at Gerard, “Wh--what are you, like 90? Look, I can probably kick your ass up and down this room.”

 

Gerard began stepping closer towards Stiles which sent both Erica and Boyd struggling against their restraints even as Stiles backed closer towards them.  Gerard ignored the struggling betas as he grabbed ahold of the jersey Stiles was still wearing and tugged her towards him.

 

“Now, Stiles.  I think it’s time you told me what I want to know.”

 

“What’s it matter?  You’re still going to beat the shit out of me.”  She snarked back

 

Gerard grinned maniacally, “Yes.  Yes I am.”  That was the last thing he said as he sent a punch to her abdomen which sent Stiles gasping, gagging on the air that no longer resided in her lungs.  Gerard watched Stiles flail and claw for air as he drove another fist into the same spot over and over again.  He angled it differently so that when he hit, Talia could hear a muffled splinter of ribs.  Not a full crack or break but enough to certainly cause agony when Stiles finally can breathe again.  

 

Seemingly growing tired of Stiles’ flailing, Gerard sent a strong backhand to her face which sent Stiles slamming into the ground, her lip split and blood flowing down her face as she attempted to gasp.  Gerard stood over her watching until he deemed Stiles had received enough air and as she attempted to get to her knees before he aimed a kick into the other side of her ribs which sent her crashing to the ground once more.  

 

“I know that you’re human, Stiles and I think you know that I’ve had plenty of time learning how to extend pain.  Just ask your friends.”  Gerard waved lazily in the direction of the two betas but ignored them even as their chains rattled and their muffled shouts grew louder.  

 

Stiles was on her side gasping, her left hand covering her lower ribs as she coughed up blood.  “Go to hell.”  She spat.

 

Gerard watched dispassionately as he brought a fist down onto her back sending her bones driving back into the concrete beneath her.  Her grabbed a fistful of her hair and jerked her head up.  There were bruises and scrapes littering her flesh and blood flowing from her mouth alongside the drool.  “That wasn’t very nice, Ms. Stilinski.”

 

Stiles’ response was to spit a mouthful of blood and saliva into Gerard’s face, her teeth bared in the parody of a bloody smile.   

 

Gerard’s face only tightened as he proceeded to slam Stiles’ head into the concrete beneath her leaving her dazed.  The group tensed as he used his hold on her hair to begin dragging her across the basement floor to another set of shackles.  He took advantage of Stiles’ dazed state to pull her jersey off, leaving her in a black sports bra before he duct taped her hands to the shackles.

 

“Can’t have evidence of you being chained up.”  He smiled the approximation of a kind smile as he looked down at Stiles.  

 

The group could only watch in horror--barring the Nogitsune who was dancing on the balls of it’s feet--as Gerard stepped back towards where the betas were thrashing.  Blood was leaking from Stiles’ head wound and mingling with the blood already drying around her mouth.  The group saw Gerard open the grate to some kind of forge that was in the corner of the basement.  The group did not have to be close to see what exactly he had put in the flame.  They instead watched as he returned to Stiles who was trying to shake off the confusion.  

 

As he got closer he pulled a knife from his back pocket.  “Now Stiles, I think you’re going to answer my questions.”

 

The fear was apparent in Stiles’ body language but her eyes were ablaze, not with magic but with determination, her face set in a sneer.  “Go to hell.”

 

There was a cruel smile, the flash of a knife and then there was only screaming. The group flinched each time Stiles grunted and screamed.  They could hear the two bodies hanging in the room jerk at each noise that came from the bound girl.  Gerard left shallow slashes all over Stiles’ pale, spasming stomach, traveling up her torso to just below her collarbone, ‘no evidence for dear old dad’ he had said.  They watched him circle around and begin the thin slashes again, this time on her back.  Each time he made a handful of slashes he would ask Stiles questions which she would reply with either snark or silence.  Both answers resulted in more slashes--deeper ones.  There was blood covering almost every inch of her torso and Stiles was gasping. 

 

Gerard finally took a step away from her and began walking towards the corner of the basement.  Stiles took the moment to slump forward, her breaths ragged.  The pack watched, everyone growling as the two betas saw Gerard approaching Stiles from behind carrying a red hot implement.  The noise caused Stiles to jerk but she appeared too tired to raise her head.  The pack beside Talia began to growl.

 

“I bet you thought Scott was going to come find you.  Three hours later and...nothing.  Disappointment must surely sting Ms. Stilinski.”  

 

Stiles spat blood out onto the floor and choked out, “Fuck you.”

 

“I’m afraid I’m a little too old for that particular pleasure,” He drawled seeming to enjoy the sliver of disgust that traveled up and down Stiles’ prone form.  “However, there is another way you won’t forget me.”  Wasting no time he grabbed Stiles from behind and pushed her face first into the ground with his body weight.  Stiles began to struggle fervently even as the tape held her arms secure up and back.  The chains holding the betas rattled and shook, their noise echoing, clanging in the basement as finally Gerard brought the iron down on the back of Stiles’ right shoulder.  The shrieking the group had heard before was nothing compared to the sound that emitted from Stiles the moment the piercing hot metal was pressed to her skin.  The smell of Stiles’ burning flesh caused everyone to gag.  The two betas strung up in the corner near frantic to get to Stiles as she screamed and sobbed, the lights flickering heavily.

 

Eventually Gerard climbed off of Stiles and removed the branding iron to toss it to the side.  He undid the duct tape holding Stiles to the chains and left her unmoving form on the ground.  He walked towards where Stiles’ discarded jersey was and threw it at her trembling figure.  “You’re free to go.  My best regards to Scott.”  He smiled and sauntered up the stairs.  

 

The betas’ struggles ceased and their screams petered out to whimpers.  They strained against their chains in a bid to get closer to the fallen girl.  Eventually Stiles moved, every shift eliciting a whimper of pain but she managed to sit up.  She stood slowly, using the wall near her to steady herself.  Her posture was curved into herself, her hands coming up to cover her abdomen even as she began to move towards the chained betas.  Her movements slow and halting but determined.  She made it towards them but when she tried to lift her arms to reach the dial running the electrical current through their bindings pain brought her short and a small shout erupted from her mouth.  She had tears in her eyes as she tried again and again but to no avail.  She brought her eyes to the two bound betas and saw what Talia did.  Understanding, sadness, and a pleading look for Stiles to just run.  To run while she could.  The group watched as Stiles shook her head and tried again but was brought short once more by the pain.  Eventually the three shared a long look and tears spilled from every eye as Stiles nodded solemnly and began to hobble away. 

The memories swirled and cycled again but the tension between the gathered individuals was new, tenuous, filled with all of the words left unsaid.  A deep, reverberating growl filled the tense silence and Talia whirled around to see Derek with a clawed hand around the Nogitsune’s throat.  Derek was half shifted and glaring, his yellow eyes blaring as they pierced the manic green of the creature in his arms that wore Stiles’ face.  

 

“You call this  _ fun _ ?”  He growled, his mouth a sneer.

 

The girl seemed unbothered, even ecstatic at the fact her throat was beneath Derek’s sharp claws as she rolled her eyes.  “Oh hush now.  This was  _ nothing _ .  You all haven’t even met me yet.”  Derek shook her briefly like a rag doll at her flippant response.  “She lived, didn’t she?”

 

The creature shook Derek’s hands off of her like they were nothing more than flies that buzzed around her as the images reformed.  The group resettled bottling up their feelings as they watched Stiles limp home, now wearing her jersey and proceeded to lie to her father about what happened.  They watched the two embrace and they saw Stiles’ flinch as her father’s hands came into contact with her wounds.  They watched the two part ways and Stiles try to change, clean her wounds, and get comfortable on her bed.  They watched as Lydia appeared and tried to help Stiles, sat with her and talked and then when they began to argue and shout until eventually the two rushed into the jeep and began rushing somewhere tugging their invisible audience along with them.  

 

They saw Stiles and Lydia use Stiles’ jeep to crash through a wall and run over the Kanima and they watched as ‘true love’ helped save Jackson while Derek and Peter killed the Kanima inside of him.  They watched Jackson turn into the werewolf he was supposed to be all along.  They watched as everyone questioned where Gerard went but no one truly began searching.  They watched everyone disappear leaving Stiles alone in the warehouse littered with the objects of their small battle.  No one, not even Scott seemed to care about Stiles and how she moved slowly.  No one commented on how she had disappeared from the lacrosse field or where she had gone.  No one commented on the visible bruises and the unmistakable scent of blood that were undeniable and hard to miss.  No one said anything as they all drifted off in their pairs into the shadows leaving Stiles alone once more.  

 

Stiles leaned back against her jeep, slumping and breathing heavily for who knows how long.  The pack could not tell if she was trying not to cry or if she was trying to gather the strength to move once more.  A sudden clanging sent a jerk through Stiles’ body along with a hiss and they watched as blood trickled from the reopened wound on her lip which she had bitten through.  Stiles pushed herself away from her slumped position and grabbed her bat from the open door of her jeep as she began to shuffle towards the sound.  

 

She came to an abrupt halt as she found Gerard’s sprawled body lying on the concrete.  Stiles watched dispassionately as he tried to claw himself towards the exit before him.  A cold expression came upon her features as she walked beyond the fallen figure to slowly close the door that Gerard was trying to get to.  

 

The older man looked up, black bile and blood pouring from every orifice on his face as he took in Stiles.  He gritted his teeth in the approximation of a smile that was gushing black.  “Ah, Ms. Stilinski. Left behind again, huh?  Seems to be a pattern.”  He huffed out, his breathing harsh.

 

Stiles said nothing as she walked towards the man, her steps unfaltering, right grip tight on the bat in her palm.  Gerard looked up at her this time noting the bat, “Are you going to kill me, Ms. Stilinski?  What would dear old Scott say?  His best friend a murderer?”

 

Stiles didn’t respond to the jibe.  Instead she lifted the bat and brought it down on Gerard’s head.  She lifted and swung, lifted and swung, lifted and swung until the body below her stopped moving and until her body physically screamed in agony protesting the movements she had made.  The pack watched as the girl stumbled and began to survey her work.  Talia could not bring herself to feel disgust for Stiles’ actions.  She felt vindicated.  They watched in silence as Stiles knelt down, pain on every inch of her face as she dug out the knife that Gerard had used on her earlier.  They watched her flick the knife open, slam the blade into Gerard’s heart and remove it only to kneel there and saw at his neck until the head rolled away with a dull thud.  They watched Stiles begin dragging Gerard towards the back of her jeep where they watched her heave the decapitated corpse into the trunk and tossed the head in with it after she retrieved it.  

 

There were no words as they watched Stiles clamber painfully into her jeep and begin driving.  She drove into the preserve slipping between whatever trees she could maneuver her jeep between until she could go no further and once she reached that point she got out and opened her trunk, shuffling the body to the side as she dug out a shovel.  She searched for a spot and once she found what she was looking for she began to dig.  Hours passed and Stiles pulled off her overlarge sweater to reveal a tank top drenched in sweat and blood.  She continued digging until the hole was deep enough and then she drug the corpse--minus the head-- and unceremoniously shoved it in.  Walking back, she grabbed and chucked the head in beside the corpse and began shoveling the dirt into the ditch she had dug.  More time passed and eventually Stiles fell into her jeep, her eyes dead and motions sluggish.  

 

The memories began cycling through before Stiles could even begin to move.  Talia wondered what exactly happened next but the group was swept away from the memory.  They watched in tense silence as Stiles’ summer passed slowly, her healing and reopening wounds constantly, her and Scott beginning to bond once more despite him not noticing the matte quality that now haunted the previously shiny amber eyes of hers.  Stiles invited herself into Derek’s life and began to help him search for Erica and Boyd, never mentioning that she had seen them or what had gone on in the Argent basement.  Watched her learn that Peter had been brought back to life by some spell that Peter had pieced together by breaking Lydia’s mind.  They watched her punch Peter straight in the face and watched her stare him down even as his ice blue wolf eyes pierced her face and she remained unmoved and unafraid.  The group watched Stiles have nightmares and panic attacks that woke her in the dead of night but no one ever came to help her.  They watched as the Sheriff’s relationship with Stiles began to whither.  Stiles still did everything she had before but now her father rarely spent any time at home or with his daughter.  He rose before she woke and was sleeping long after Stiles had fallen into her own dreams.  They watched Stiles and Derek grow closer to one another sharing small laughs and sarcastic barbs.  They watched Stiles grow another year older, they watched her dimming eyes, they watched her begin to learn to fight in her free time, they saw her throw herself further into research, they saw her beginning to become the person who had shown up bloody on the Nemeton that day that now seemed so far away.

* * *

 

Derek did not know what to think as the memories of Stiles’ past continued to cycle by showing innocuous images such as Lydia and Stiles talking about Jackson leaving to go to England, Isaac moving in with Derek, and Stiles and Scott at a tattoo parlor where Scott got some tattoo that proceeded to disappear.  

 

He and his family had just watched Stiles go through events that she should never have had to go through.  They watched her held at gunpoint, kidnapped, tortured, branded and abandoned.  They watched her murder Gerard, mutilate his body and then bury him in the woods.  Derek was not disgusted by what he saw happen to Stiles or how she reacted to it but he was disgusted in the people around her.  How no one noticed her.  No one noticed her missing or in pain or the dimming of her eyes.  No one noticed what was happening to Stiles--what had happened to her already.  He hated the words that echoed in his mind from the Nogitsune as the memories kept coming.    _ This was nothing. _

 

He watched Stiles begin to research the next odd occurrences like the deer running headfirst into Lydia’s windshield, the crows that had sent themselves splattering through the window of their English class until they broke through, attacked the students and then proceeded to throw themselves into objects until they were nothing but twitching corpses.

 

_ Bird flies at the window; Death knocks at the door. _

 

Derek had no idea where the rhyme came from but it sent chills down his spine.  Derek watched as Stiles and Scott went to his older self so that Scott could have his tattoo become permanent.  He watched as he made Stiles help hold down a roaring Scott as he put a blowtorch to Scott’s arm to bring the tattoo to the surface and he watched as the Scott slumped unconscious while he finished.  He watched as his older self revealed to a newly conscious Scott and a suspicious Stiles that he had been marked by an incoming Alpha Pack which he had kept from the both of them all summer.  He reveals to an agitated Stiles that he had learned the Alpha Pack was keeping Erica and Boyd prisoner and that while they were still missing, Derek had more of a clue as to where they were than he ever cared to share.  They saw a hurt Isaac who was recovering from some errand Derek had sent him on and they saw him wake and start to search for someone as Stiles and Scott were shuffled out.

 

He watched Stiles drag Scott to a party for one of her oldest friends, someone she said she had known since diapers while her mom was still alive.  He watched and tensed when right as she walked in and wished the boy a ‘happy birthday’, he grabbed her softly and kissed her right then and there.  He heard Laura choke out a laugh of some sort at the display which only increased when the boy pulled back and the group could see Stiles’ confused and dazed face and Scott’s outright shocked expression.  

 

He could only stare as the two exchanged words and the boy--Heath apparently--started to drag a dazed yet smiling Stiles with him ‘downstairs’ to ‘pick out a wine’.  Unbeknownst to the pair, their invisible audience followed shortly behind them.  

 

The two stumbled downstairs where Stiles proceeded to look around at the walls covered in wine racks. She smiled slightly, “Hey, remember when we were little kids and we used to come down here all the time and then we would--” She stopped talking when  _ Heath _ pressed close to Stiles, pushing her gently into the wine rack at her back and kissed her.  When Heath pulled back to breathe Stiles gazed up at him, “Yeah, we never did that.”

 

Heath nodded and stared down into Stiles’ eyes, “Stiles... I just turned 17 today. And you know what I want for my birthday?”

“A bike?”  She joked even as a blush began to spread down her neck.

 

The boy shook his head slightly sharing a small smile with Stiles in the space between their lips.  “To not be a 17-year-old virgin.”  He moved closer to Stiles, brushing his hands up and down her arms.  “You've never done it before either?

Derek could see the blush multiply, the red swooping further down towards her chest as she tried to avoid eye contact as she huffed out,  “Turned 17? No, not yet, no.”

Heath pulled back enough to look into Stiles’ eyes and began to search for something in them.  “Hey, Stiles.  Do you want to? I mean, would you be okay with that?  We don’t have to it you’re not comfortable.”

Derek watched Stiles look up at the guy and a small smile flit across her features, her eyes becoming less shy as she held his gaze.  Her voice was soft, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d be okay with that.  I want to.”

 

The two shared a smile and Derek was prepared to turn around--he didn’t need to see Stiles lose her virginity.  That was too private of a moment.  No one else should be viewing this.  He was going to start telling his family to avert their eyes but he found he didn’t have to when Stiles opened her mouth once more, “Um, wait, wait, wait. Wait. I don't have any, uh…”

Heath smiled slightly and huffed a laugh against Stiles’ neck.  “I don’t have any condoms on me either.  I...only decided on this when I saw you.  I wanted my first time to be with someone I trusted.”  He paused here and took in a deep breath, “My brother has some in the upstairs bathroom. I can go get them.”

 

He started to pull away but Stiles shook her head, “No. I’ll go get them.”  Heath pulled back to look down pensively at Stiles. “Yeah?”

 

Stiles straightened her shoulders, “Yeah.  And I’ll grab us a drink while I’m up there.”  The two shared a smile and Stiles slipped out from Heath’s loose hold and starts walking up the stairs looking back once to share a smile with the young boy.  

 

The group follows Stiles as she hurries to the bathroom and begins searching for the condoms.  She grabbed the box and reading the cover begins to blush once more.  She looked up to catch her reflection in the mirror noting her bright eyes and red flesh, her manic smile.  She clasps a couple in her hand and shoves them in the left front pocket of her jeans and made her way back downstairs to grabbed two beers.

 

They travel back downstairs with Stiles, Derek dreading every moment that led the group closer and closer to the moment no one but Heath and Stiles should be privy to.  He found his heart halt alongside Stiles’ as she walked into the cellar and found no one there.  He listened to Stiles’ voice become more worried and more soft as no reply was forthcoming.  Derek watched as Stiles crumbled into herself, popped open one of the beers and retreated upstairs with her shoulders stooped.

 

“Aww poor wittle Stiles.”  Intoned that damn parasite that stood beside them enjoying the turmoil that continued to roil through each of them as more and more of Stiles’ past was revealed to their waiting eyes.

 

Stiles moved through the rest of her night in a small fog and the next morning came around when Derek saw his older self meet with Stiles and Scott along with Allison and Lydia.  They were arguing about some bruises that Lydia and Allison had received from some random woman.  They claimed that the bruises had to mean something but his older self was keen to ignore the two women when he made relevant points about why he would and should not trust them which Derek himself found perfectly reasonable.

 

Stiles jumped in between the fray immediately, hands raised, “Okay, all right, now, come on. No one died, all right?  Look, there may have been a  _ little _ maiming and mangling, but no death. That's what I call an important distinction.”  Stiles’ flippant tone and brushing under of her own experiences and injuries sent his entire pack rumbling in discontent.  

 

The pack watched the memories cycle through; they watched Stiles go throughout her day, heard her learn from her father that Heath was missing, and watched Stiles and Scott begin emptying bags of ice into a metal tub inside Deaton’s office.  At this, Deaton twitched, violently--or as violently as Deaton was able to--and found himself staring intently at the scene before them, ignoring the eyes of Derek and his mother.

 

They watched as Isaac was lowered into the ice bath and started thrashing as Scott and Derek held him down until Deaton gave some kind of signal and they then held him drifting there.  Words and shouts were filtering as Isaac’s eyes traveled beneath his closed lids.  The lights began to flicker and Isaac began thrashing again until he roared and sat up his eyes blazing.

 

Silence was all that rang as Stiles helped Isaac out of the tub and handed him a blanket.  The words echoed in Derek’s ears and he had no doubt that they echoed in his older self’s mind over and over again.   _ There’s a dead body.  It’s Erica. _

 

_ There’s a dead body.  It’s Erica. _

 

_ There’s a dead body.  It’s Erica. _

 

Over and over again like a death toll, like the hollow ring of a bell struck by a hammer.  He tried to move beyond the words to consider what else Isaac had said.  Boyd was still alive and there was another figure that was locked where he was.  There was someone else that Stiles and her pack could save even if they couldn’t save Erica anymore.  

 

He and his family followed Stiles as she and Scott drove to her house and begin to scour the internet for whatever they could find in regards to the vault where Isaac had seen Boyd and the unknown female figure.  They talked and brainstormed throughout the night until Stiles’ father came in the morning to wake them up for school. The school day passed quickly and Derek noticed how Stiles seemed to go out of her way in avoiding her new English teacher.  Shoving this aside for the moment, Derek continued to watch as Stiles made her way through her life.  

 

Sooner rather than later Derek’s pack followed Stiles as she and Scott made their way to Derek’s older counterpart’s loft.  He was happy it wasn’t the old Hale House nor abandoned train depot anymore but he couldn’t help but cringe at the fact that the new space his older self now found a home was little more than the bare necessities.  There was little to no furniture, no signs of personalization and there was a large hole in one of the walls.  He pushed all of this aside however as the group--the Pack--gathered around a table and Stiles began pulling out paperwork and blueprints and she began outlining plans for how they would get into the vault.  

 

Derek was impressed and he could tell his mother was as well as Stiles hashed out plans and discarded them and created new ones on the spot as the evening wore on.  He could also tell that his future self was also impressed despite his stone face as he listened to Stiles ramble on.   _ Older me’s a dick _ , Derek thought as his older self continued to either ignore or question Stiles’ ideas.  He watched Stiles shake off his older self’s attitude as though she was used to it and rally but he could tell that she was close to punching older him in the face and Derek found himself feeling less concerned about it happening the more he watched.  

 

“What do you mean forget about the drill?  What’re you going to do, huh Derek?   _ Punch  _ through the wall?”  Stiles snapped.

 

Derek responded with a smirk as he proceeded to cross his arms. “Yes, Stiles, I'm gonna punch through the wall.”

 

Apparently this wasn’t enough for Stiles because she stalked over to him and grabbed his arm, trying to shake it from its crossed position.  “Okay, okay, big guy. Let's see it. Let's see that fist.” She shook until Derek finally relented and uncrossed his arms.  Stiles grabbed ahold of his right wrist and held it aloft. “Big, old fist. Make it, come on. Get it out there. Don't be scared.” Older Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ antics and proceeded to make a fist.

 

“Okay then, Big Bad Wolf. Yeah, look at that. Okay, see this?” Stiles placed her hand up beside his fist maintaining distance between her palm and Derek’s fist. “There is maybe about three inches of room to gather enough force to punch through solid concr--”  Stiles’ words are cut off as Derek takes the moment to send his fist hurtling into her palm which causes it to fall and hit the table. Stiles hissed in pain, cradling her hand, “He can do it.”

 

Laura hissed out, “Wow.  Older you is a total fucking dick.”

 

Derek could only nod as he watched his older counterpart proceed to ignore a hissing Stiles and instead faces the rest of the room with a bored expression, “Who's following me down?”

 

Everyone looked over towards where Peter was sitting on a spiral staircase that took up a corner of the loft.

 

Peter looked up and raised his hands, “Don't look at me. I’m not up to fighting speed yet, and honestly, with Isaac out of commission, you’re not looking at very good odds for yourself.”

 

“So I'm supposed to just let them die?”

 

Peter shrugged uncaringly, “One of them is already dead.”

 

“We don't know that.” Scott jumped in.

 

“Do I have to  _ remind _ you what we're up against here?” Peter posed the question to the whole group. “A  _ pack _ of Alphas. All of them, killers and if that's not enough to scare your testicles back into your stomach,” Stiles rolled her eyes.  “Try to remember that two of them  _ combine _ bodies to form one  _ giant _ Alpha.”  He paused here to look towards Derek specifically, “I’m sure Erica and Boyd were sweet kids. They're gonna be missed.”

 

Stiles wrinkled her nose and faced Derek’s older self. “Could someone kill him again, please?”

 

Older Peter had the audacity to wear a hurt expression when he glanced back at Stiles.  “That hurt.”

 

“Good.”  Was her stone faced reply.

 

Peter faced Derek once more, “Derek, it’s not worth the risk.”

 

Looking away from Peter, Derek appeared to survey the room and then asked of it’s occupants, “What about you?”

 

Stiles responded quickly, “Yeah, I'm surprised--”

 

“Not you.  You should _know_ I’m not talking to you.”  Derek cut in, a glare on his features.

 

“Dick.”  Murmured Stiles.  Laura snorted and surprisingly, so did his own Peter.

 

His older self pretended not to hear Stiles’ utterance as he looked at Scott who quickly agreed.

 

The two left leaving Stiles with Peter as her only company despite her telling them not to leave her with the “Creeper Wolf”.

 

The pack watched as Peter sauntered over to where Stiles was still standing at the table.  He walked up directly behind her, standing by her shoulder as he purred, “Oh, come now Stiles.  The last time we were alone wasn’t so bad.”

 

Stiles didn’t so much as flinch.  “Keep your hands to yourself or you won’t have to worry about your testicals curling back into your stomach.”

 

The pack watched Peter’s eyes flare a deep, ice blue, “Promises, promises.”

 

Stiles turned to face Peter, staring him straight in his glowing eyes.  “I don’t mind being the one throwing your ass back into the grave.  Back off.”

 

She turned to face towards the table once more and found herself grabbed by Peter who in turn was taken aback as a silver knife found it’s way between his thighs, Stiles’ face like stone.  

 

Peter lifted his hands and backed away slowly, a smile unfurling across his features, “My, my, aren’t we full of surprises.”  

 

The knife lowered and Stiles put it back from wherever she had taken in and returned her attention to the plans and blueprints laid out on the table, ignoring Peter as he made his way back towards his vacated spiral staircase where he settled and began to watch Stiles.

 

“You think Erica’s really dead?”  Stiles’ voice was pitched low as she broke the silence that had fallen between the two.

 

“You think I really care?”

 

The response had Stiles rolling her eyes and shifting gears.  “I just don’t understand the bank, you know? Why wouldn’t they chain them up in some underground lair or something?  They’re an Alpha Pack, right?  So shouldn’t they have a lair?”

 

“They’re werewolves Stiles, not Bond Villains.”

 

Stiles stuck her tongue out at the jab but her attention seemed to be elsewhere.  “Why wait for the full moon?  Why not kill them and dump their corpses any time over the last--”  Stiles pauses her questioning and spins on her foot not realizing she had been pacing this whole time.  “They’ve had them three months why wait?”

 

Stiles’ musings were brought to a halt as Peter suddenly stood and strode to the paperwork spread atop the table.  “What are the walls of the vault made of?”

 

“Concrete?”  The confusion was palpable in Stiles’ tone.

 

Peter began to shuffle through the papers mumbling about where to find what material the vault was made from.  Stiles leaned forward and plucks up a paper to point to the information Peter was searching for.  Finally Peter drops the paper and swears.  He begins patting his legs searching for something when he faces Stiles and barks at her to call Derek or Scott and tell them that the walls are made from Hecatolite.  Talia and Derek’s version of Peter breathes in sharply as the two before Derek begin arguing back and forth as they wait for someone to answer on the other end of the line.  And then all hell breaks loose on the other side before the line went dead.

 

There are shouts and curses as Peter and Stiles attempt to figure it out but then Stiles’ phone begins ringing and when the blood begins to drain from her face she rushes passed Peter with an absent  _ bye  _ and she’s out the door, silent pack included.  Stiles races towards what appears to be the public pool near the Preserve where another car is parked.  They watch her jump out of the car and race towards a shaking, coat-clad person.  When she gets closer, the pack is able to see that it’s Lydia and her face is bloodless as she remains staring at something that only now catches Stiles’ attention.  The two begin to have a breathless argument on how Lydia should have called Stiles  _ before _ she called the police and once that ends, Stiles calls Scott and relays to Lydia that Erica is dead, Boyd is missing and on a full moon induced rampage and that the other person was actually Derek’s long-thought dead sister, Cora.

 

Derek paid no attention to the pained sounds that the rest of his pack and family made, instead he focused on Stiles who had gotten closer to the body to examine it and had a puzzled look on her face.  He watches Stiles escort Lydia home after the police have come and finished their questions and he sees Stiles try to comfort Lydia as she relays that she had no idea how or why she had ended up at the pool.  They both came to the solemn realization that the last time something like that had occurred, it had been when Peter broke into Lydia’s mind to resurrect himself.  

 

A text distracted Stiles from her vigil of making sure Lydia made it into the house and after the door closed behind her, Stiles was shooting off into the night.  They watched her arrive at the hospital and be grabbed by Ms. McCall who led her quickly to the morgue.  Apparently she wanted Stiles to have a closer look at the body that was at the pool because she ‘hadn't seen everything’.  

 

Stiles nodded inquisitively and then Ms. McCall pulled the sheet down the body so that the neck was bared and she pointed to it.  “You see this bruising? That's a ligature mark. That means that he was strangled with something, like cord, rope.”

 

A nod.  “What kind of werewolf strangles someone? You know, that's not very werewolf-y.”

 

“My thoughts exactly.” McCall shared before she grasped the head and tilted it to the side displaying another wound on the head. “And then there's this.”

 

“Is that brain matter?” Stiles looked closer not noticing the odd glance that Ms. McCall had sent her way at her lack of response. “Yeah, it’s definitely brain matter.”

 

“He was hit in the back of the head hard enough to kill him. In fact, any one of these things could have killed him. I mean, someone seriously wanted this poor kid dead.”

 

“All right,” Stiles nodded. “So that rules out Boyd and Cora. They wouldn’t have done all that. So maybe  _ this  _ is just one murder. I mean, maybe it’s just a random coincidence.”

 

McCall was already shaking her head before Stiles’ statement had concluded.  “I don't think it was just one.”

 

That caught Stiles’ attention. “How come?”

 

“Because that boy over there,” McCall indicated before walking towards it with Stiles in tow. “He's got the exact same injuries.”

 

The zipper was loud in the silence. 

 

“The M.E. said this one wasn't just strangled. Whoever did it used a garrote, which is a stick that you put a rope through, and you just kind of keep twisting, and…”  Ms. McCall trailed off as she noticed Stiles’ blank expression and called her name before realization set into her features. “Oh God, you knew him, didn't you? I'm sorry.” She hastened to zip the bag back up, hiding the boy’s from Stiles’ view.

 

“I-I was at his party. It was his birthday. His name is Heath.” Stiles’ voice was little more than a whisper, her attention still focused on the now covered body.

 

“Okay, we need to call your father, because you're a witness.” McCall told her, but the group watched as Stiles didn't react to the prompt. “Stiles?”

 

Derek watched Stiles’ eyes flare slightly before she faced Scott’s mother.  “Has anyone else been through here tonight? Any... any other bodies, or even anybody missing?” 

 

Nurse McCall appeared confused at the abrupt subject change.  “Uh, no,” She stumbled.  “No bodies, but, there were two girls. They brought the first one in, Caitlin, for a tox screen, and then I overheard that her girlfriend, Emily, just disappeared. I mean, they were out in the woods and--”

 

Stiles jumped in, “Nobody's found her yet?”

 

“I don't know.”

 

A nod.  “Is Caitlin here? I have to talk to her.”

 

“Why?” Melissa asked.

 

“Because I think I know what's happening.” She said as she dropped an absent goodbye and went off to find this ‘Caitlin’.  The two had a discussion about what exactly Caitlin and her girlfriend were doing out in the woods that night.  After the discussion ended Stiles quickly left the hospital, the phantom pack tagging along.

 

The pack watched as Stiles found Scott and they exchanged notes on what happened with Boyd and Cora.  When Scott got to the part where Derek had used himself as a scratching post Stiles cursed like a sailor and called him a  _ goddamn self-sacrificing idiot _ which caused Laura to snort silently.  Scott and Stiles snuck back into the morgue so that Stiles could show him what she found and Scott slumped in relief when it became apparent that neither Boyd nor Cora had killed anyone innocent.  It was then that Stiles revealed her theory that everyone who had been killed so far were killed as part of something called the ‘threefold-death’ and that it all culminated to mean that the deaths were actually human sacrifices.

 

The group was jerked from the position in the morgue as the memories cycled through once more.  Stiles and Scott were at school again but this time they were located in the boy’s locker room.  No one appeared fazed that Stiles was amongst the guys as they were changing.  The two were discussing the deaths and a new disappearance when the sound finally filtered back.

 

“Yeah, I have no idea what happened to him. I looked everywhere. It's like he just walked away. Left his car, his dog.” Scott recounted.  

 

“Okay.” She drawled. “Was he, like... could he have been a virgin maybe?” Scott gave her an odd look at her query and she shook her hand at him. “Did he look like a virgin? Was he, you know, virginal?”  She pressed.

 

Scott shook his head. “No, definitely not. Deaton makes me have sex with all of his clients. It's a new policy.”  Scott looked proud of himself and even let out a chuckle which died a swift death when he looked at Stiles’ take-no-shit countenance.  He sighed and faced Stiles again, “No, I don't know if he was a virgin. And why are you talking like he's already dead? He's just missing.”

 

Stiles jumped in, “Missing and presumed dead because he's probably a  _ virgin _ , Scott.” Stiles began shoving her bag inside the locker she had just opened. “And you know who else is a virgin, Scott? Me. I'm a virgin, okay?” She whispered harshly.  “And you know what that means? It means that my  _ lack _ of sexual experience is now literally a  _ threat _ to my life.” Stiles’ voice was starting to become a whispered shout. “Okay, I need to have sex, like, right now. Someone needs to have sex with me, like, today. Like, someone needs to sex me right now!” She exclaimed, slamming the locker door shut.

 

A deep voice from behind her had Stiles jumping and spinning to face the speaker.  It was a tall boy, tan with a friendly smile, eyes looking Stiles up and down.  “All right, I'll do it.” 

 

Stiles appeared both surprised and amused.  “What?”

 

“Come to my place at 9.  Plan to stay the night--I like to snuggle.”  

 

A small smile came to Stiles’ lips “Thank you, Danny.  That’s a sweet offer but I think we  _ both _ know that arrangement wouldn’t work for us.”

 

A smirk in her direction was all she got before Danny walked away from her and Scott.  The memories continued to spin by allowing the group to watch the team ready for an apparent run.  The team begins running and the pack is forced to stay with Stiles as she falls behind the supernatural creatures who run ahead using their advanced speed.  Stiles runs until she hears a scream and she finds the rest of her group standing around a tree with a corpse attached to it.  The group watches as Stiles’ father begins to process the scene.  Isaac, Scott and Stiles are standing to the side discussing the deaths and how Stiles doesn’t believe the Alpha Twins, who are apparently part of the Alpha Pack, are responsible because the manner of death is more suited to humans than werewolves.   The group watches as the rest of Stiles’ day unfolds: they see her talk to the dead man’s,  _ Kyle’s _ , girlfriend and then see Stiles get slapped for asking if Kyle had been a virgin but she received her answer in time to be yelled at by her father for interfering.  They also learn that the FBI has come to town due to the rising body count and the belief that a serial killer is on a rampage.   

 

Stiles comes across Boyd in the hall where a makeshift memorial has been set up on Kyle’s locker and the two talk.  Stiles doesn’t manage to hide the hurt she felt when Boyd threw out that they weren’t friends thus he didn’t have to tell her anything.  The conversation ended when Boyd said that he only had one friend and she was dead.  It was at this moment that Boyd flinched slightly and looked down at Stiles--focusing intently on her torso and on the back of her right shoulder.  He lifted a hand as though he was going to rest it atop the wound but paused when he noticed Stiles flinch away from the contact.  The two stared into one another’s eyes without saying anything.  Boyd’s left eyebrow was quirked in question and Stiles shook her head in response, her eyes pleading.  Boyd looked at her another moment, nodded solemnly, dropped his hand and walked away.  Stiles remained standing alone at the dead boy’s locker and Derek watched her turn towards it to look at the trinkets and photographs pinned there before she left to find Lydia and brainstorm possible patterns.  

 

The pack finds themselves surrounding Stiles as she goes to the clinic to confront Deaton.  She talks about how her father is handicapped by what he does not know but that she can put the pieces together.  She lays out everything she has gathered so far and when Deaton only nods and defers to her answers she then asks Deaton point blank what he knows.  Deaton begins to fill in the blanks and informs Stiles that while the threefold death is a favorite for Druids, the person doing the sacrifices has bastardized the process.  

 

The two were interrupted as a call from Lydia came into Stiles’ phone.  Whatever she said sent Deaton and Stiles shooting back towards the high school where Lydia recounted everything that had happened and the three began comparing notes.  Deaton and Stiles fell onto the pattern; someone was killing people in groups of three using the threefold death.  Deaton himself revealed that the ritual was one to amass power and it required that three sacrifices be made, three from each group of virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors.  When Deaton got to the warrior category a spark shifted in Stiles’ eyes and she rambled until the connection between Kyle and the reason for his death became apparent.  The three ran towards another classroom to find Mr. Harris missing and letters left on papers spelling out the word ‘Darach’.  Behind Derek, Deaton gasped.  He wanted to ask what he knew but he had a feeling that the memories around him would provide the answer soon enough.  

 

The memories cycle through, the Nogitsune stepping up beside Derek to whisper in his ear, apparently forgetting that everyone could hear her regardless--or perhaps not caring, “This is where everything gets  _ so much sweeter _ .”

 

Derek shook her off and took a step forward, away from her, ignoring her chuckle behind him as he watched the memories begin to still and solidify on Stiles and Scott sitting together in her room as the two talk.  Scott shares that the Alpha Pack is living in the same building as Allison and her father and that Scott had had a run in with Deucalion, the leader.  Derek heard his mother drag in a deep, pained breath when the revelation came to light but he pushed beyond it to continue listening.  The two parted ways as Scott said he needed to go home for the night.  The memories appeared to fast-forward until Stiles and Scott were sitting in a school bus surrounded by what appeared to be the lacrosse team and the remnants of her pack and the Alpha Twins.  The sound was going in and out.  Derek could feel his pack flinch when it was revealed by Scott’s murmur that his future self was dead.   _ What the hell happened? _

 

None of the pack had to wait long as Stiles demanded to know what happened in their stead.  Derek could see it all play out in his mind as Scott relayed the events to Stiles and he had no doubt that the images were running rampant in her own mind.  The two drew quiet for a moment before Stiles began reading words to Scott who answered them, apparently studying for a test.  After a while Stiles began slipping other words into Scott’s impromptu lesson and when the bus hit a bump which jostled the pair, Derek saw Stiles catch Scott’s pained grimace and she asked why he wasn’t healing yet.  The two continued to argue and kept glancing between the backs of Isaac and Boyd’s heads and those of the Alpha Twins.  Deciding they needed to stop to attend to Scott, Derek watches Stiles induce another student to vomit and he watched as Scott was carted off by a randomly appearing Lydia and Allison.  He watched in silence as Isaac began beating the shit out of one of the twins and he saw Stiles get in the middle and break the fight off entirely, just in time to catch an exhausted Scott as he stumbled, apparently fully healed from the restroom.  

 

“How did you do that?”  He gasped.

 

Stiles shrugged as much as she could with Scott’s arm hanging over her shoulder, “I don’t know.”

 

The two stumbled back onto the bus along with the rest of the lacrosse team.  Citing an empty gas tank, Lydia and Allison joined the group on the bus and began hashing out what they knew.  The Darach was gathering power presumably for some battle that was quickly approaching.  The four continued to talk as the bus ambled down the highway until eventually the bus pulled over into the parking lot of an abandoned looking hotel where Finstock informed the group they would be staying until the meet tomorrow. He split everyone up but still landed with Stiles and Scott in the same room.

 

The two fell backwards onto their separate bed spreads and let out deep breaths.  Stiles opens her mouth first, “Okay, so I have five suspects on who the Darach could be.”

 

“Five?  Seriously?”  The boy pants.  

 

Stiles ignores him and plows ahead.  “Well it was ten originally but I’ve narrowed it down.  Honestly it was nine because I counted Derek twice.”

 

Scott jumped up to stare down at Stiles who didn’t look at him, “You thought  _ Derek  _ was the Darach?  What the hell Stiles?”

 

She rolled her eyes, “Oh please like the thought hadn't crossed your mind”  She turned to face Scott and when his face failed to shift into acknowledgement, she groaned and threw her head back.  “Gods where the hell would you be without me?”

 

Scott’s face spasmed.  “Fine.  I won’t question your logic.  Who was number one?  Harris?”

 

“Just because he’s missing doesn’t mean he’s not dead.”

 

Scott nodded in understanding.  “So if he's not dead, our chemistry teacher is out  _ secretly _ committing human sacrifices.”

 

Stiles hummed slightly.  “It sounded way better in my head. And you have to admit, Harris totally has human sacrificing asshole written all over his face.”

 

Apparently not deigning the last remark with an answer, Scott pushed forward.  “Well, what if it's somebody else from school? Like, you remember Matt? We didn't know that he was killing people.”

 

Stiles shot up to shoot a deadly glare at Scott’s still slumped figure.  “Excuse you? What was that? _ I _ did. In fact,  _ I called it from day one _ , actually.”

 

“Yeah, but we never really  _ seriously _ thought that it was Matt.” Scott responded.

 

The glare intensified.  “I was serious.   _ Deadly _ serious. No one listened to me.”

 

Scott jumped in suddenly when it appeared as though Stiles gearing up for an argument, “Who were the other four?”

 

Judging by Stiles’ narrowed eyes, his attempt was  _ definitely  _ noticed.  “Derek's sister, Cora. No one knows anything about her, and she's Derek's sister. And we know that the Hale family doesn't have a good track record so far. And then there's Deaton.”

 

At this, Scott shot up to stare at Stiles.  “My boss?”

 

“Yes. He may have helped us with the Kanima problem but I don't really like the whole Obi-Wan thing he's got going on, you know. It freaks me out.” 

 

Stiles noticed the confused expression on Scott’s face and she grabbed and threw her pillow at him. “Oh, my Gods. Have you still not seen Star Wars?”

 

Scott ducked the flying projectile.  “I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie.”

 

Stiles’ expression showed that she highly doubted Scott’s words. “You not watching the movies makes me crazy, I swear.”

 

Scott only laughs and resettles.  “Who are the last two?”

 

“Lydia.”  Scott made an inquisitive noise.  “She was controlled by Peter to bring him back to life.  The possibility is there that something like that could be happening again.”

 

Despite looking unhappy about it, Scott nodded when Stiles’ logic made sense.  He took in a deep breath, “And the last?”

 

Stiles seemed to weigh her answer before providing it this time. “There's Ms. Blake.” It was Scott’s turn to let out a groaning noise.

 

“Seriously, Stiles?  I know you don’t like her but that doesn’t mean that she’s the Darach killing people!”

 

“Right.  That makes perfect sense,” The sarcasm was unmistakable.  “I don’t know the chick but you know what I do know?  She’s a new variable.  There’s something off about her--you can’t deny that you don’t feel something off.”  Scott didn’t answer but Stiles wasn’t done.  “And let’s not forget that the last time I didn’t like somebody they turned out to be a psychopath bent on killing people.”

 

Scott didn’t respond but he also didn’t look like he was taking Stiles’ words to heart.  

 

The memories sped up again.  Scott acting odd and Stiles getting a text from Lydia which has her, Lydia, and Allison gathering to discuss the odd occurrences that they’ve witnessed in regards to the wolves.  Lydia shares that she keeps hearing people committing suicide and in her haste to leave she knocks over a bible and a ton of clippings written about the motel they’re in fall out.  They’re all about the suicides.  Stiles begins to ponder if perhaps the trip was led astray so that they would land at this particular motel.  Lydia and Allison share how the number that was hanging in the front window was counting how many suicides have occurred at the motel.  They also share that from Lydia’s first trip there and her most recent, the number has gone up by three.  

 

The trio decide to begin investigating but are brought short when the sound of a handsaw began filling the air.  Lydia asked if she was the only one hearing it but when the others with her shook their heads in horror, they began ramming into the door they could hear the saw behind in an attempt  to force it open.  They broke in just in time to see one of the Alpha Twins about to cut himself in half with a handsaw.  Derek jumped forward fruitlessly as he saw Stiles leap towards the twin and attempt to pry the saw from his hands.   The saw went flying and then so did Stiles.  She managed to catch herself with mere inches between the spinning blade and her face before Lydia managed to pull the plug.  The lack of saw didn’t seem to concern the twin as he extended his claws and began to claw at his own midsection.  Stiles and Allison swamped him and attempted to pull his hands from his flesh which resulted in the teen stumbling back and burning himself on the radiator which appears to have knocked him out of the trance he had been in.  The twin ran off and Allison offered to find Scott while Stiles revealed that the events were paralleling what had happened at Lydia’s birthday party the night she had brought Peter back to life.  

 

Derek watches the pair traverse the parking lot as Stiles tries to apologize to Lydia for suspecting her but they stop as Lydia freezes and shares what she’s hearing.  She recounts hearing a mother preparing to drown her baby.  The two looked at one another and began running towards the room Isaac and Boyd were sharing.  The room is empty but the two run into the bathroom where they see Boyd trapped under a room safe in a tub full of water.  Stiles tries to unblock the water to drain it but finds she is not strong enough.  She stumbles away and burns herself and after a quick discussion she runs to the bus and grabs a bundle of road flares before she returns to the room.  

 

Stiles rushes back in with her bounty and the two ignite the flare and put it under water.  Boyd reacts violently, throwing the safe off of himself and roaring.  Stiles hears from Lydia where Isaac is and she lowers herself towards the floor, calls him her baby beta and then after popping another flare to wake him from his trance, shoves it towards him.  

 

The group rushes back out into the parking lot where they run across Allison who declares that she can’t find Scott but all three freeze as they smell gasoline.   Following the trail the three stand stock still taking in Scott who had finished dumping a container of gasoline on himself and had popped a road flare.  He stood silent as stone, drenched completely, staring at nothing.  

 

Derek and his family could do nothing but stare at the group of four in growing horror.

 

Allison’s voice broke.  “Scott?”  She tries again, “Scott?”

 

Scott’s voice is emotionless, “There's no hope.”

 

“What do you mean, Scott?” Allison questioned him. “There's always hope.”  Her smile is broken and her eyes wet.

 

“Not for me,” He gasped.  “Not for Derek.”

 

Allison chimed in, “Derek wasn’t your fault.  You know he wasn’t your fault.”

 

Scott only shook his head, gasoline flinging with his moving hair.  But Scott didn't seemed to be fazed by the claim. “Every time I try to fight back, it just gets worse...People keep getting hurt. People keep getting killed.”

 

Stiles took a step towards Scott, avoiding the hands that tried to grasp her. “Scott, listen to me, okay?” Her voice low and quiet, tears rimming her eyes. “This isn't you, all right? This is someone inside your head telling you to do this. Okay? Now--”

 

Scott cut her off.  “What if it isn't?  What if it is just me? What if doing this is actually the best thing that I could do for everyone else? It all started that night, the night I got bitten. You remember the way it was before that? You and me, we were... we were... we were  _ nothing _ . We weren't popular. I wasn't good at lacrosse.  We didn't matter. We were  _ no one _ .”  He paused here, his face solidifying into a determined expression.  “Maybe I should just be no one again.  No one at all.”

 

Stiles tried to grasp Scott’s attention. “Scott, just listen to me, okay?”  She waited until his eyes were on her before continuing, “You're not no one. Okay? You're someone, you're--Scott, you're my best friend. Okay?  You’re my  _ brother _ .”  Tears began to stream down her face. “And I  _ need _ you. Scott, you're my brother. I can't lose you  _ too _ .” 

 

Derek and his family jerked as Stiles took a step into the puddle of the gasoline that was emanating from Scott’s frozen form. “Alright, so... so if you're gonna do this, then…” A deep breath, Stiles’ wet eyes burning as she looked up at Scott, “Then you're just gonna have to take me with you. All right?”

 

Stiles made it within arms length of Scott and when she got there she pried the flare from his fist and flung it away not caring where it landed.  Instead she crushed Scott to her, seemingly uncaring of the gasoline that soaked through her clothes.  Derek know she wasn’t the only one to let loose a sigh of relief at the save.  That relief was short lived however as Lydia let out a scream and tackled Stiles into Scott and all three went flying back and down just as the fuel exploded where they had been previously standing.  

 

The memories cascaded once more leaving the group shuddering on the ground as Derek and his pack continued on.  They learned that the Darach had been poisoning the pack by using Finstock’s whistle to send minute traces of wolfsbane into the air of the bus, they learned Lydia had seen the Darach in the flames before it disappeared and they learned that the meet that had sent the team out on their road trip had suddenly been cancelled.  They hear the discussion between one of the twins,  _ Ethan _ .   _ Holy Shit _ , Derek curses aloud which is echoed by his family.  

Was this the Ethan and Aidan that Stiles had saved and brought home during the time she was missing?  Derek’s thoughts were running rampant as he attempted to refocus on the conversation between the group on the bus.  He heard that his older self was actually alive which sent relief rippling through him but he couldn’t ignore the anger that briefly had the lines of Stiles’ mouth tighten. 

 

Suddenly Derek and his pack found themselves watching Stiles stomp up the stairs to Derek’s loft where she slammed the door open.  The sound grated on his ears and he had no doubt they did on his future self as well.   He watched his older self ambling towards where Stiles stood.  He was pale and moving slowly but his eyes were blazing, human colored still but blazing nonetheless as they took in Stiles.

 

“Well good to know you’re alive.  You’re one hell of a son of a bitch for disappearing like that.  Do you have  _ any _ idea what your pack went through without you?  When they thought you were  _ dead? _ ”

 

All she got was a growl in response.  The hairs on the back of Derek’s neck were beginning to raise.  Something was wrong.

Suddenly a feminine cough broke through the space which caused Derek and Stiles’ heads to swivel towards the sound.   _ Everyone  _ froze as they took in a tall, brunette woman who was wearing an awkward smile.  “I’m sorry to interrupt.”  Derek thought she didn’t look too sorry at all and judging by Stiles’ narrowed eyes, neither did she.  The woman--Ms. Blake-- turned towards Derek.  “I’m going to head out.  I have some stuff I need to get in order.”  The woman walked towards Derek and kissed him directly on the lips before gathering a bag that was sitting on the table still covered in plans before she approached Stiles where she was stationed by the door.  “See you in class tomorrow, Ms. Stilinski.”  And with that she was gone.

 

Stiles grit her teeth and faced Derek once more.  “Really?  Everyone thinks you’re dead and you decide to have a booty call with our English teacher?  Are you  _ fucking  _ serious?”

 

Derek’s older self growled at Stiles and flashed his red eyes at her.  Stiles only rolled her eyes in response, not backing down.  “Your pack is fine--not that you’ve asked.  They almost weren’t fine though when the Darach showed up to poison them and Boyd and Scott tried to  _ kill  _ themselves and Isaac was stuck in some ongoing panic attack.  But other than that  _ totally _ fine.”

 

“What do you expect me to do?  Hold their hands?  I’m the Alpha not a damned babysitter.”  He growled at Stiles.

 

A scoff erupted into the tense atmosphere, “You’re not even acting like a real Alpha.  So you got hurt.  Fine!  You go off, you lick your wounds but you at least make sure your fucking pack knows you’re alive!  You don’t fall off the damn planet and nail an English teacher while you’re there!”

 

Stiles’ outburst ended when Derek’s older self grabs her and slams her body back into the wall behind where she had previously been standing.  He was snarling, his fangs dropped and barred as he glares with his red Alpha eyes right into Stiles’ face.  Derek himself tensed and he could tell his family did as well.  The Nogitsune only cackled in the silence.  The only sound Stiles made was a grunt as her back collided with the wall.  Other than that she stared Derek’s older self down, eye to eye, toe to toe and snarled back at him.  

 

“If you don’t shut the hell up Stiles, I’m going to ri--” 

 

“ _ Rip my throat out with your teeth? _  Yeah, Derek, I know.  Real fucking original.”  She glared at him even more not bending as Derek leaned further into her space.  “That threat starts losing it’s gravity when you use it so much.  So either rip my throat out or get the fuck out of my face.”

 

No one is breathing as the two continue staring one another down.  Derek sees his older self flinch and strain as though he’s debating internally about the choice.  Eventually he backs away from Stiles’ form, still growling deep in his chest.

 

“I thought so.”  Stiles seethed before she turned on her heel and walked towards the door, ignoring the angry Alpha behind her.  “Call your pack to tell them you’re alive.  I’ll keep the ‘nailing our teacher’ bit to myself.”  At the door she turned towards Derek’s older self.  “Start acting like an Alpha, Derek or you’re going to lose your pack.”

 

With that parting shot Stiles walked out the door.

 

“Holy shit,” Laura breathed, “She’s fucking insane.  Does she not have survival instincts?”

 

“Nah,” Drawled the Nogitsune.  “Our skills lay elsewhere.”

 

Derek was too busy trying to control his breathing as the memories cycled again.  

 

The memories cycled through: the pack watched Stiles and her own pack run around trying to save the people who were next on the sacrificial hit list--healers.  Two doctors were already missing and/or dead and now Deaton was missing.  Derek’s own version of Deaton merely raised his eyebrow and continued watching as the events of the past unfolded before their eyes.  The sound filtered in as Stiles and Scott shifted away from where the Sheriff and Deputy Tara from earlier were discussing Deaton’s disappearance.

 

“We have to tell him.” Was the first thing out of Scott’s mouth.

 

Stiles was visibly thrown at the non sequitur.  “You mean, like, tell him,  _ tell _ him, or tell him something  _ else _ that isn't telling him what I  _ think _ you want to tell him?” She questioned, her tone hard.  

 

A hard stare in her direction, “You know what I mean.”

 

Stiles shook her head and stepped closer to where Scott was standing.  “Do you remember how your mom reacted?  She didn't look you in the eye for, like, a week, dude!”

 

“And she got over it. ” Scott pressed. “It actually made us  _ closer _ after everything was out in the open.”

 

Stiles shrugged, averting her eyes as she admitted, “I don't know, dude.  He's completely overwhelmed as it is.”

 

“He's overwhelmed because he has no clue what's happening.” Scott pointed out not too unkindly. “He's got people dying in his town, the town that he's supposed to protect, and it's not his fault that he doesn't know what's happening.” He paused slightly before continuing, “He's gonna find out sooner or later.”

 

Stiles shook her head.  “Could it be later? Now isn't exactly the right time.” 

 

“What if not telling him now gets someone else killed?” Scott pushed.  Derek felt tension coil between his shoulders as Scott refused to see that Stiles was uncomfortable and getting frustrated at their conversation.

 

“What if telling him gets him killed, huh? I get that Deaton's been like a father to you. I  _ get  _ that, okay? But Scott, this is my  _ actual _ father.” Stiles’ voice cracked, “I can't... I can't lose  _ both _ of my parents, all right, Scott? Not both of them.  I just--I can’t.”

 

Scott stood silently and appeared to be taking in Stiles’ body language and he finally stepped off.  “You're right.” Scott breathed out.

 

Stiles slumped, her shoulders caving in as she finally relented.  “No, I'm not.”

 

“But you're  _ always _ right.” Scott pointed out, in an attempt no doubt to get his best friend to smile.  An attempt that fails.  

 

“I'm not right this time.” Derek watched Stiles take in her father’s exhausted countenance and released a heavy sigh, “I'll tell him.”

 

The scenery changed and suddenly Stiles was standing in a room watching Lydia and Cora face off.  Stiles demanding Cora let go of Lydia because she didn’t feel like dealing with another Hale’s bullshit had Cora finally stepping away from Lydia.  The group watched Stiles attempt to stimulate Lydia’s apparent abilities but continuously fail much to Stiles’ frustration.  They all watched however as Lydia began to sketch out a bare branch tree which captured Stiles’ attention.  Soon enough Stiles was shooting across to the hospital with Cora and Lydia in tow to go visit Danny.  The group watched Stiles sneak into Danny’s room to rifle through his things and they tried not to laugh as Stiles attempted to convince Danny that he was hallucinating Stiles breaking into his room to look at his things.

 

The scenery reforms as the assembled group of Lydia, Stiles, Cora and Scott all meet again within the back of the animal clinic.  They’re comparing notes on what they see within Danny’s work on something called telluric currents.  The group is able to piece together that Deaton is at the same vault from which they sprung Boyd and Cora and as they are all about to rush out to save Deaton, Lydia’s pause draws Stiles’ attention.  Cora suddenly throws out that Boyd had sent a message saying that the plan to electrify the Alphas at Derek’s loft failed because they cut the power.  The group splits--Scott sends himself to rescue Deaton while the remaining members of the trio race towards Derek’s loft.

 

Derek watched the group stumble to a halt inside the power room for Derek’s loft and begin to flip all of the switches while Stiles texts Isaac to alert him to the power returning.  After setting all of the switches right, the three run up the stairs towards Derek’s loft.  And every single individual both visible and invisible comes to a stop at the scene before them.

 

Ms. Blake is being held by Isaac who has tears in his eyes and Derek is kneeling in the water, his hands held up and bloody as Boyd’s slumped body lay before him.  A wail from Cora knocks everyone into action sending Lydia to Isaac and Jennifer’s side, sending Cora falling to Boyd’s side where she started weeping, and Stiles walking up near silently to Derek’s back where she placed her right hand on Derek’s shoulder as he sat there stunned and shuddering.

 

“I--I killed him.”  Derek gasped out.

 

No one said anything, Cora’s sobs being enough.

 

“I killed him.” 

 

“No, Derek, you didn’t. You’re not a killer.”  When Derek went to shake his head Stiles tightened her grip on him.  “You’re not a killer.”

 

The memories tumbled, the invisible pack silent as they waited for whatever came next.  

 

They stood silent as they listened along with Stiles as Peter began to relay what happened the night that Deucalion went blind.  The night the Alpha Pack was just beginning.  They listened but were still questioning certain details which left the pack wondering if perhaps they were feeling Stiles’ thoughts and emotions as they coasted through her memories since they had trouble believing everything that was coming out of Peter’s mouth.  And then they were suddenly at the high school again with Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Allison.

 

Lydia tells them all that she called them because she fell into another fugue state which led her to the school.  Everyone begins searching for a body because there has been a pattern of Lydia getting led around by her states and a body is usually not far behind.  There’s no need for the search to continue however as Stiles stands in front of the stone sign for the school staring at the cooling corpse of Deputy Tara Graeme. 

 

The group watched as night turned to day and Stiles’ father was corralling Stiles away from the body and talking sternly about her not getting involved.   They listen in as Stiles tells her father that the attack was personal and that it wasn’t a random murder--it was a sacrifice.  The Sheriff writes off his daughter and walks away leaving Stiles alone.  Stiles coasts through the rest of her day, glaring at Ms. Blake as she teaches her course but keeping her mouth shut on what she undoubtedly wants to say.  

 

Scott grabs her later and tells her that he wants to talk to Ethan since he seems more welcoming.  With Aiden distracted by Lydia, the two corner Ethan who appears willing to talk with the two, or at least is not trying to rip their throats out.  

 

“Why are you even talking to me?  I helped kill your friend.  How do you know I’m not gonna kill another?”  At this Ethan looks right at Stiles as though to prove a point.  

 

Derek feels a growl rumble in his chest but he finds it unnecessary as Stiles steps up herself to growl right in Ethan’s face as she spat, “Are you threatening me?  You know what I'm gonna do? I'm going to break off an extra-large branch of Mountain ash, wrap it in wolfsbane, roll it in mistletoe, and shove it up your freaking--” Stiles was cut off unceremoniously as Scott grabbed her arms and attempted to calm her down while he pulls her away from Ethan.

 

Scott faced Ethan again, “We’re talking to you because I know you didn’t want to kill Boyd.  And I think that if something like that happened now, you wouldn’t do it again.”

 

The group watched as Ethan seemed to shrink into himself slightly before responding.  “You don’t know what we owe them--especially Deucalion.  My brother and I weren’t like Kali and Ennis when we met them.  We weren’t Alphas.  

 

“What were you?” Scott asked.

 

“Omegas.” Came the bitten off answer.  “In actual wolf packs, omegas are the scapegoats, the last to eat, the ones who have to take the abuse from the rest of the pack.”

 

“So you and your brother were like, the bitches of the pack?”  Stiles tone was amused but Derek didn’t miss the way her eyes shuttered as she took in the information Ethan had shared with them.

 

“Something like that.”

 

“What happened?”  Scott asked.

 

Ethan responded, “They were killers. I mean, people talk about us as monsters. Well, they were the ones who gave us the reputation. And our Alpha was the worst of them.”

 

Stiles broke in, curiosity plain on her face.  “Why didn't you guys just fight back? Form ‘voltron wolf’, you know? Kick everyone's asses?”

 

“We couldn't, we didn't know how to control it back then.” Ethan shared. 

 

Understanding overcame Scott’s face.  “Deucalion taught you.”

 

Ethan nodded, “And then, we fought. We took down the whole pack, one-by-one. And by the time we got to our Alpha, he was begging for his life. And we tore him apart. Literally.” 

 

“What about your emissary? They're all dead? Kali and Ennis' too?” Scott questioned.

 

“All of them except for Deucalion's.” 

 

“You mean Morrell?” Stiles jumped in.

 

Ethan was about to respond when suddenly he curled forward, his face a pained grimace.  And then he was running off with Stiles and Scott on his heels.  They came upon the scene of Cora sprawled on the ground, blood leaking from her head with Aiden standing above her holding a weight in his hand and Lydia standing away from the confrontation.

 

Stiles hurried over to Cora’s collapsed form to look at her head wound.  It didn’t appear to be healing.  “Guys, I think she’s really hurt.”

 

The group watched Cora stand and stumble on her own as she attempted to clean her wound.  They watched as Cora rebuffed Stiles as she asked if she was okay.  Not seeing an opening and seemingly tired of Cora’s attitude, she finally snaps at Derek’s younger sister, “Do you realize how suicidally crazy that was? What were you thinking going after them?”

 

Cora only snarled, “I did it for Boyd.  None of  _ you _ were doing anything.”

 

“We’re trying.”  Scott tried.

 

“And you’re failing.  You’re just a bunch of stupid teenagers running around, thinking that you can stop people from getting killed. But all you do is show up late. All you really do is find the bodies.”  Cora’s words were harsh and everyone flinched, barring Stiles who only responded to the group after Cora had stormed away, “Yep.  Definitely a Hale.  I’ll make sure she gets home.”

 

On their way out Stiles received a phone call from Allison and Isaac where they relayed what they had found on her dad’s desk--how he had also been looking into the cases and he had gathered the rest of the missing columns: philosophers and guardians.  They overheard as Allison told Stiles that guardians could mean law enforcement so she should warn her dad--tell him everything if she had to.

 

They hang up and Derek watches as Stiles jumps when Cora pitches in, “What are you going to do?”

 

Stiles straightens her shoulders even as her eyes remain troubled, “I’m gonna tell him the truth.”  She turns towards Cora, “And I’m going to need your help.”

 

The memories cycled forward until they landed once more in Stiles’ room where she was pacing while her father was standing to the side watching her and Cora sat on her bed.  “Stiles.” The Sheriff broke in, voice annoyed.

 

“Dad, I'm sorry, okay?  I'm just--I'm trying to-- I'm just trying to figure out how to start here.” 

 

The Sheriff waited out Stiles but eventually his frustration appeared to get the best of him.  “Hey, I don't have this kind of time.” 

 

“Um, for the last year, you've had all these cases that you couldn't figure out, right?  I mean, all the murders involving Kate Argent, and then Matt killing all the people who had drowned him, and all these murders right now. It's like...it's like you've been playing a losing game.” Stiles summed up.

 

“Stiles, the  _ last  _ thing I need right now is a job performance review from my own daughter.” The Sheriff’s voice was forced, short.

 

Stiles nodded.  “I know. Okay, see, but that's... that's just it, dad.”  She breathed.  Derek watched Stiles look around herself, flailing slightly until her vision rests upon something on a shelf.  She begins walking towards the shelf and Derek watches on confused as she takes a chessboard down and turns to face her father. “The reason that you're losing the game is because you've never been able to see the whole board. I need to  _ show  _ you the  _ whole _ board.”

 

The assembled group watched Stiles begin setting up the chess board and labeling each piece with either a creature or person’s name on a sticky note.  She begins explaining everything that happened from the night her and Scott snuck out to what was happening right now.  Derek noted that she left out the details of her captivity and torture and he felt his eyes flash.  The pack watched as Stiles’ father grew more frustrated as Stiles began explaining things and he eventually snapped at her that he didn’t believe her.  As a last ditch effort, Stiles began motioning for Cora to  t ransform behind her so that the Sheriff would believe her but that plan failed epically when Cora proceeded to collapse and lose consciousness sending both Stiles and the Sheriff into a panic.  

 

One tense and screaming ride to the hospital later when the Sheriff unloaded Cora’s unconscious self on Scott’s mother, Stiles received a phone call where Allison revealed that Philosophers could also mean teachers which Stiles backed up when she revealed that the deputy who had died used to be a teacher.  The phone call ended and Stiles found her father, determined to have him believe her and her story.  She tried to pry into what he had seen when he had helped save Deaton with Scott but the Sheriff appeared too frustrated to listen.  Stiles was pushing too hard though and the Sheriff and her began arguing in the hallway.  

 

“Stiles, I have seen a lot of things I can't explain in this town. That doesn't make them supernatural and it doesn't make them real.”  He began walking towards the exit. “They just found another body. That's real. And that's the lead I'm following.”

 

Stiles was following behind him trying to get his attention, “And another teacher is going to die if you don’t start listening to me!”

 

The Sheriff whirled so fast that Stiles had to sputter to a stop.  “I am listening!  I have  _ been _ listening!”  He shouted at her.  The group noticed Stiles flinch, her eyes flicker and they noticed alongside the Sheriff that the two had their own personal audience.

 

Stiles’ father began to walk away but he froze when he heard Stiles’ whisper, “You just don’t believe.  Mom would’ve believe me.”

 

Derek watched silently as Stiles’ father looked back to see the tears in her eyes and then pivoted and continued on out of the hospital without another word spoken.

 

Stiles blinked away her tears and pulled out her phone.  She rolled her eyes when her call went unanswered but she left a message for Derek’s future self detailing what happened to Cora and where she was before she hung up and retreated back to his sister’s room to sit with her until Derek gets there.

 

Once Derek’s future self arrives Stiles excuses herself and begins to head towards the school where the recital is being held in honor of the victims.  Stiles arrives just in time to find Scott frantically searching for Lydia.  The two begin looking when suddenly a high pitched scream echoes from everywhere sending Scott to his knees.  Stiles helps him up and then is left behind as Scott rushes towards the sound, Stiles pushing herself to keep up.  

 

A roar ripped the night air before Stiles and the group watched as she put on a burst of speed and landed at the open door of her English classroom.  The group saw Stiles look in and see Scott wolfed out and bleeding on the floor, Lydia crying and tied down to a chair, and her father on the ground.  Stiles rushed towards the door in time to feel it slam closed and hear something get pushed against it.  The pack watched in silence as Stiles began to throw herself bodily against the door over and over again as she heard a gunshot ring out and glass shatter until finally, mercifully, it gave and Stiles was inside.  She looked around still seeing Lydia and Scott but her father was nowhere to be seen.  She approached the window and breathed out a shaky, ‘Dad?’ As silver gleamed in her eyes.  Derek felt his heart drop at the sight.

 

The memories cycled and the space before them reformed into the shape of Derek’s loft as Stiles marched straight up to Derek and glared at him, her eyes flashing and teeth bared.  “Your girlfriend took my father.  She’s the one sacrificing everyone.  She’s the Darach.”

 

His older self shook his head at her in denial, “No.  She isn’t.  She’s just your English teacher and she’s not my girlfriend.”

 

Stiles was near vibrating in anger, “I don’t _care_ who she is to you.  All I care about is that she took my father and she is going to help me find him or I swear to the gods I will _kill_ her.”  

 

Scott pulled Stiles back, or at least attempted to as Derek’s eyes flared red.  “You aren’t going to touch--”

 

Scott cut in, “Why don’t we wait for her to come here?  I can prove to you that Jennifer is the Darach.”

 

Derek looked unmoved but nodded his head once, decisively before he looked towards the door.  Stiles and Scott got the hint and hid somewhere where they would not be seen as Derek opened the door.

 

Scott had to hold back Stiles as she attempted to march into the front room the moment Ms. Blake’s voice had entered it.  Derek focused on Stiles, her large eyes brimming, her nails digging into her flesh so hard that Derek didn’t doubt there would be blood.

 

The conversation from the other room filtered in:

 

“Thank God. Something happened at the school. Okay, I need to tell you before you hear it.   Before you hear any of it from  _ them _ .”  Ms. Blake’s voice was trembling--a nice touch Derek thought.

 

“From who?”

 

“Scott and Stiles. They're gonna tell you things. Things you can't believe. You have to  _ trust _ me, okay? You trust  _ me.” _

 

“What is it?”

 

“ _ Promise  _ you’ll listen to me.”  Jennifer begged.

 

“Of course.”  Derek’s voice was soft as he promised her.  Stiles looked a mixture of ill and murderous.  

 

Something must have happened because Jennifer’s voice changed suddenly.  “They're already here, aren't they?”  At this Scott and Stiles stepped out from where they had been hiding.  Jennifer turned to face Derek, a sneer there and gone, “So they told you it was me? That I'm the one  _ taking _ people?”

 

Scott jumped in, his voice hard, “We told him you’re the one _killing_ people.”

 

Derek’s older self looked unconvinced but he remained silent as he watched events play out.  

 

Jennifer shook her head at the teens.  “Committing human sacrifices? What, cutting their throats? Yeah, I probably do it on my lunch hour.  That way, I can get back to teaching high school English the rest of the day. That makes  _ perfect _ sense.”  Jennifer’s voice was beginning to grate on Derek’s self control.  

 

Stiles’ voice broke the silence bringing everyone’s attention to her, “Where’s my dad?”  As the question fell from her lips, a single tear fell from her left eye and streaked it’s way down her face.  

 

“How should I know?”  Jennifer shot back before turning to Derek.  She didn’t even notice that Derek’s attention was now on the crying form of Stiles before he looked down.  “Tell me you don’t believe them Derek?”

 

His older counterpart’s voice was soft, “Do you know what happened to Stiles’ father?”

 

“No.”

 

Again, Scott broke in, “Ask her why she almost killed Lydia.”

 

Jennifer’s face was arranged in an expression of confusion as she looked at Scott.  “Lydia Martin?  I don’t know anything about that.”

 

Derek’s older self’s voice was suddenly harder, “What  _ do  _ you know?”

 

“I know that these teens will, for whatever misguided reason, fill your head with some absurd story--one they can’t even prove, by the way.”  Jennifer looked triumphant even if older Derek couldn’t see it.

 

“What if we could?”  Scott’s voice rang loud and clear as he removed some container from his pocket.  

 

Jennifer suddenly looked nervous as she looked from Scott’s face to his hands.  “What is that?”

 

Scott ignores her question and speaks to the whole room, “My boss told me it’s a poison and a cure.”  At this he looks directly at Jennifer.  “That means you can use it...and it can be used against you.”  

 

Jennifer hisses out, “Mistletoe.”

 

And as if that word had been some kind of signal, Scott sends the contents of the container flying towards Jennifer.  The group watches as the powder lands atop Jennifer which sends her concealment spell fleeing.  Underneath the beautiful facade she had been wearing, her true face is revealed--a bald, death pale face that had claw marks and slashes all over it.  Once the mistletoe had done it’s job, the spell snapped back into place.  Before she could run, Derek wrapped his hand around her throat and lifted her off her feet.

 

Scott stepped forward in an attempt to stop Derek from undoubtedly snapping the woman’s neck.

 

“Derek, wait.  Wait!  You need me!”  Gasped Jennifer.

 

“What are you?”  Was all he growled in response.

 

“The only person who can save your sister.  Call Peter.  Call him!”  She choked out.

 

Everyone in the room waited in tense silence as Derek made the call with his free hand.  They all heard Peter relay that Cora’s condition was worsening and that she was currently throwing up mistletoe.  When the call completed, Derek tightened his fist around Jennifer’s neck.

 

Derek’s actions sent Scott forward.  “Derek! Derek, what are you doing?”

 

“Her life,” Jennifer gasped, “It’s in my hands!”

 

Derek’s older self only snarled at Jennifer until Stiles began to step forward, her voice strong but thick with unshed tears, “Stop.  Derek, stop.”

 

Jennifer latched onto Stiles’ words like a life preserver.  “Stilinski, you’ll never find him.”

 

Stiles froze, her expression tightening.  She took another step towards Derek’s older self. “Derek, we need her right now.  We can kill her later.”  Scott made a distressed sound which everyone chose to ignore.   


 

Derek released his grip unceremoniously dropping Jennifer to the floor where she lay there gasping for air.  “That’s right,” She drawled, “You need me.   _ All _ of you.”

 

The group watched as the four dispersed and began making their way to Beacon Hills Hospital where Cora was lying in a hospital bed slowly dying.  Derek took Jennifer in the camaro while Stiles and Scott took her jeep.  They hurried down the road way trying to navigate through the storm that was sweeping through the town--the wind howling and sending the trees thrashing, the deluge of rain.  

 

Stiles’ voice broke the tense silence, “I don’t know about this.  Something feels wrong.  I mean, we proved it to Derek and broke whatever mojo she whammied him with but Jennifer still had this look on her face like it didn’t matter.  Like everything was still going according to plan.  You saw it didn’t you?”

 

Scott didn’t have time to answer as the jeep came to a screeching halt in front of the hospital doors.  Derek drug a reluctant Jennifer out into the rain while Scott met Stiles at the front of the jeep.  He sent an odd look at the wooden bat in Stiles’ hands and she glared right back at him, “What?  You have claws, I’ve got a bat.”

 

Scott nodded his head and moved on meeting Derek and Jennifer and the group of four pushed their way into the hospital.  They quickly ran into Scott’s mother who took in the situation and broke down what needed to happen.  Scott warned his mother to get out and soon the group was sequestered into an elevator to ride up towards the floor Cora was on.

 

The elevator ride was tense and silent.  Older Derek held Jennifer’s arm in a tight grasp while Scott stood to her left and Stiles hovered with the bat raised directly behind her.  When Jennifer looked behind herself and saw the bat she rolled her eyes but they widened imperceptibly as Stiles gestured with it, her eyes flashing a hint of molten gold.

 

The group ran to Cora’s room and found it empty and turned quickly when they heard a crashing sound.  When the group made it out into the hall the double doors swung open and Peter’s body came sailing through, crashing to the ground until he slid right towards Stiles’ and Derek’s legs.

 

Looking up, the group both visible and invisible saw the ‘voltron wolf’ Stiles had mentioned the twins becoming.  Scott and Derek threw themselves at the large wolf while Stiles enlisted Peter’s help to get to Cora’s unconscious body.  No one noticed Jennifer slip away.  

 

The chase was on as Derek, Peter, Stiles, Scott, and an unconscious Cora ran from the twins’ larger form.  The group eventually stopped in an operating room.  When the coast appeared clear they tried to hash out a plan but that all imploded once Stiles noticed that Jennifer was no longer with them.

 

She began to rant and when Derek’s older self attempted to shush her, she twisted towards him and began to shout at him, her eyes blazing and flashing dangerously, “Me be quiet?  Me, huh?”  Stiles didn’t give him a chance to answer the question as she bulldozed on.  “Are you telling me what to do?  You really think  _ you’re _ in the position to start giving orders right now?  Really?  When your psychotic, mass murdering girlfriend--the second one you’ve dated by the way--has got my dad somewhere?  Waiting to be ritually sacrificed?  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

Stiles stormed away from Derek’s older self not seeing the hurt that flickered through his eyes, there and gone in a blink before he settled into a blank mask.  

 

Scott tried to intervene, “Stiles, you need to calm down.  They’re still out there.”

 

Stiles whirled to face him, “No shit, Scott.  And you know why they’re still out there?  It’s because they want  _ her _ .  Well guess what!  We don’t have her now so Cora and my dad are both dead!”

 

Stiles is shaking, her breaths rasping as she turns away from the group.  Scott’s question on whether Cora is really dying is low in the newly fallen quiet.

 

Peter’s response was a quiet quip about her not getting better.  When Scott pushed that they had to help her, Jennifer appeared out of nowhere claiming that she was the only one who could help save Cora and that she would give up Stiles’ father’s position but that she would only help after the Hale Pack agreed to see her safely out of the Alpha Pack’s grasp.

 

Peter threw out the idea of torturing Jennifer which was wholeheartedly picked up by everyone save Scott until the screech of the intercom system sent the argument into a stand still. 

 

Ms. McCall’s voice stuttered out, “Um, can I have your attention? Mr. Deucalion... excuse me, just Deucalion... Requests you bring the woman calling herself Jennifer Blake to the E.R. reception. Do this, and everyone else can leave. You have ten minutes.”  Ms. McCall’s voice guttered out and the silence returned. 

 

Jennifer looked towards Scott as though to reassure him.  “He's not gonna hurt her.”

 

Derek only snapped at Jennifer to shut up but she responded that Scott knew why Deucalion wouldn’t hurt his mother.

 

Everyone save Scott looked confused and Derek finally demanded he explain but Jennifer got there first.  “You're not the only one he wants in his pack, Derek.  Deucalion wants power put above that, he wants the rarities and he believes that Scott could be that crown jewel.  He believes that Scott is a True Alpha.”

 

The visible Peter sucked in a breath.  “A True Alpha?”

 

“What the hell is a True Alpha?”  Stiles spat out seemingly done with being out of the loop.  

 

Peter responded once more, “The kind of Alpha that doesn't have to steal their power from another. One that can rise by the force of their own will.”

 

The memories began to cascade as the group began to line out plans and eventually separated--Derek with Jennifer and Stiles as they carry an unconscious Cora to the ambulance bay, Peter and Scott to distract the twins.  The group of four makes it down to an ambulance and Stiles climbs in the back with Cora while Derek and Jennifer flee from something that Stiles can’t see.  They remain hidden in there until suddenly Cora stops breathing.  The invisible pack surrounds Stiles as she begins to panic and administer CPR.  Everyone was tense until Cora’s breathing came back and Stiles slumped back down across from her and sat vigilant watching her chest rise and fall.   

 

Eventually Stiles dropped her head into her hands as she began talking to Cora’s unconscious body.  “You just hold on a little longer, okay? Trust me, if anyone's gonna get us out of this, it's Scott.”  Stiles paused and let out a gush of air as she slumped backwards.  “Can't believe I just said that. You know, I actually used to be the one with the plan. Well, or at least a plan B. Now I don't know. Now I'm thinking maybe you were right. You know, maybe...maybe we are pretty much useless. Maybe all we really do is show up and find the bodies.”  Stiles paused again, her hands dragging through her hair agitatedly as her breaths became heavier. “I don't want to find my father's body.”  And then seemingly as though she couldn’t help herself, “You know, you're a lot easier to talk to when you're completely unconscious.”

 

Memories collided and swirled until Stiles was standing on the roof of the hospital begging Scott to stay with her.  The invisible group had no idea what had transpired but the boy with the crooked jaw was crying.  Then they understood when Deucalion continued, “You help me catch her, and I'll help you get your mother and Stiles' father back.”

 

Stiles stepped towards her friend.  “Scott.  Scott, don’t do this.  Don’t go with him.”

 

“I don’t know what else to do.”  The boy admitted.

 

Shaking her head Stiles strode forward, “No, Scott.  There’s always something else.  We always--we  _ always _ have a Plan B.”

 

Scott’s eyes were defeated as looked between Stiles and where Deucalion stood waiting patiently.  He looked back at Stiles as he murmured, “Not this time.”

 

“Scott--”

 

“I’m gonna find your dad.  I promise.”  

 

Stiles’ eyes were brimming with tears as she shook her head in a silent ‘no’.  

 

Scott began to walk away and he ignored the pleas and screams of his name as Stiles was left alone on the roof.

 

The memories swirled until they solidified to show a Stiles who was kneeling in an elevator over an unconscious older Derek.  She was shouting his name and slapping his face in an attempt to rouse him.  Right as Stiles curls her hand into a fist and sent it hurtling towards older Derek’s face, he wakes up and catches it just in time.  Stiles gives him the update on everything that he missed as she helps him up.  She begins pushing him out, telling him to run because the cops are coming and he needs to go.  Derek takes her advice and abandons Stiles, leaving her alone once more.  

 

Stiles sat where she was directed to by the men in suits with badges that claimed FBI.  She was looking around, tapping her fingers when her attention caught onto a man coming towards her.  “Oh just perfect.”  She mumbles to herself as the man stops in front of her, a shit eating grin spread across his tan face.  

 

“A Stilinski at the center of this whole mess. What a shocker.” The man’s eyebrows are raised, his mouth a twisted smirk--Derek hates him immediately.  “Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?”

 

Stiles, it appears, is fully ready to throw down.  “If you ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.” 

 

The man switches tracks, “Where's your dad, and why's no one been able to contact him?”

 

Stiles shrugs in response, “I don't know. I haven't seen him in hours. I’m also not his keeper.”

 

The man looks at Stiles, smirk still in place as he asks, “Is he drinking again?” 

 

Derek watches Stiles’ face become stone. “What do you mean, again? He never had to stop.”

 

The stranger’s head nodded from side to side.  “But he did have to slow down. Is he drinking like he used to?”

 

Stiles shifts forward in her seat.  “All right, how about this? Next time I see him, I’ll give him a field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet, start with ‘F’, end with ‘U’. 

 

“How about you just tell me what the hell happened here?”

 

Stiles leans back in her chair once more.  “I don't know what happened here. I was stuck in the elevators the whole time.” 

 

“You're not the one who put the name on the doors, are you?” 

 

This caught Stiles’ attention, “What name?”  She looked to the side to see the doors close and the name ARGENT smeared on it in what looked like fresh blood.  

 

Stiles somehow manages to get away from the hospital and finds herself at the Argents where she tells them about the name she had seen.  Stiles, Allison and Chris begin to hash out their plans and when Stiles’ hope begins to flag, Chris bolsters it.  The three piece together that another sacrifice will be made where Deaton’s sacrifice failed.  Emboldened by the new plan of attack, the three continue to piece together the rest of the clues they have.  Chris and Allison begin to strap on an arsenal when Isaac walks in and offers his claws.  Feeling left out, Stiles asks for a gun and when she receives looks of disbelief in their place she responds that she’s the daughter of the Sheriff and she’s known how to shoot basically since she mastered walking.  Without further question, Chris gives her a gun and him, Isaac and Allison head out towards the bank vault where they believe the Sheriff and Scott’s mother are.  Stiles makes her way to Lydia to both check on her and fill her in on all that has transpired since her attempted murder.

 

It’s when the two are exchanging notes that Lydia reveals why Jennifer had tried to kill her.  She had called her a Banshee before she tried to garrott her.  Stiles promised Lydia that after everything died down they would dig into it together.  While the two are talking, Stiles receives a text message and Derek can tell by her rapidly paling face and her newly trembling hands that what she read was most certainly not good news.  

 

“Oh Gods.”  She breathed.

 

Derek watched Stiles’ shaking hands as they put her phone back in her pocket and he watched as Stiles began to sway from one side to the other, her breathing becoming laboured.  Derek could hear her heart pounding frantically, dizzyingly as it tripped and tumbled over itself.  Stiles was gasping as though there wasn’t enough air.  

 

“What is it?”  Lydia pressed, getting closer.

 

“It’s a text from Isaac.”  Stiles seemed to force out, gaps between her words.  “Jennifer she to--she’s got Allison’s dad.  She’s got all three now.  We--we’re too late.”

 

“We still have time right?  Stiles, are you okay?”

 

“I think I’m having a panic attack.”

 

“Stiles?  Stiles!”

 

Stiles didn’t answer.  She began stumbling forward only to be caught and maneuvered by Lydia who led her into the locker room where they both proceeded to collapse to the floor.  

 

“Come on Stiles!  Try to think about something else.”  Lydia was fluttering around Stiles, her hands shaking as she roved them over the trembling lump on the floor.

 

“Like what?”  Came the delayed gasp.

 

“Like family.”  Lydia cringed.  “Ok, not family.  But come on--think of something.  You  _ need _ to slow your breathing.”

 

“I can’t.”  Stiles’ voice was fading.  Her gasps getting faster and faster.  Derek knew that soon Stiles would fall unconscious but Lydia slid on the floor beside Stiles and lifted her head, shushing her and then she did something which surprised even Derek, by kissing Stiles.  

 

When the two pulled back from one another, both were wide eyed.  Stiles’ breaths were finally evening out, returning to a semi-even push and pull.

 

“How did you do that?”

 

Lydia pulled back further, “I read it somewhere once that holding your breath could stop a panic attack so when I kissed you, you automatically stopped breathing which basically restarted your lungs.”

 

Stiles nodded, still slightly dazed from her previous hyperventilating.  “Thanks.  That was really smart.”

 

Lydia scoffed slightly.  “If I was really smart, I would tell you to sign up for a few sessions with the guidance counselor.”

 

Something Lydia said set Stiles straightening as she whispered, “Morrell.”

 

The two got up and rushed out towards Morrell’s office where they found another student waiting.  After questioning the student they come to the conclusion that Morrell is actually missing and Stiles proceeds to break into Morrell’s office.  When the student sitting outside raises concerns about Stiles’ breaking and entering, she hands over Morrell’s file on the student and tells her to ‘go nuts’.  Stiles begins combing through Morrell’s paperwork when she comes across Lydia’s file and the tree that she had been sketching--continuously if how many copies of it existed in the file were to be believed.  

 

Seeing the oddities the other girl bails while Lydia and Stiles put their heads together.  They soon come to realize that Lydia has been drawing the Nemeton over and over again.  With this information in hand, the two rush to find the rest of their pack, unknowingly towing the Hale Pack behind them.  Before they could leave however, Stiles is ground to a halt by the same FBI agent as before.  Stiles tells Lydia to find Derek because he’ll know where the Nemeton is.  She turns away and begins walking up to the awaiting agent where he proceeds to lead her to an empty classroom.

 

Derek’s shoulders are tightening as the agent closes the door and proceeds to lay into Stiles about her father.

 

“Did you know your dad's car is in the school parking lot and hasn’t been since last night?” Stiles shrugs her shoulders at the agent’s opening volley.

 

“No. What does that mean?”

 

“It means he’s officially missing.” The agent replies before he pauses to shift closer to Stiles. “Stiles, why am I getting the feeling you know something that could help us find your dad?”

 

Stiles rolled her eyes in response.  “If I did, why would I not tell you?” 

 

The agent sends back a glare at the non-answer.  “If it meant helping your dad, why  _ wouldn't _ you?” 

 

“So you're asking me to tell you what I wouldn't not tell you?” She asked, a smirk playing about her lips.

 

The agent made a frustrated sound, “First, I have no idea what you just said. Second, how about you just help me help you?”

 

The smirk was becoming more pronounced now.  “Well, I don't know how to help you help me tell you something that would help you if I don't know it.”

 

“Are you doing this on purpose?” The agent was most certainly frustrated.  

 

Stiles finally gave up the game she was playing with the agent.  “I don't know anything, okay?  Can I just go?”  Something seemed familiar about the way they traded barbs but the agent’s next question had that thought evaporate from Derek’s mind.

 

“Where are your other friends?”

 

Stiles only raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, adopting a bored expression. “You mean Scott?”

 

“I mean Scott. I mean Isaac Lahey, Allison Argent, these twins Ethan and Aiden...I've been told your whole little clique didn't show up at school today.”

 

Stiles smiled blandly, “I don't have a clique.”

 

“Stiles, come on. There's been a pretty disturbing amount of violent activity in this county in the last few months, several murders tied to this school?” The strange man led.  “I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s serious.  And...hey.  Your dad is missing.  Fine.  But I don’t want you going home alone.  You have someone you can stay with tonight?”

 

Stiles appeared to be gearing up to answer when suddenly a deep voice intoned from behind her, “She’s with me.”

 

The memories fast forward.  They show Deaton and Stiles meeting up at his clinic with Allison and Isaac and see them comparing notes, creating plans.  Stiles receives a message from Scott and her and Deaton race out to meet him.  They hear Scott share with the duo what he learned while he was running with the Alpha Pack, what he heard when Morrell was briefly caught by them.  Then Stiles and Deaton relay a plan that they believe will lead them to their parents and the Nemeton.

 

Scott jumps in.  “What's the plan?” 

 

Deaton responds, “Essentially, you, Allison, and Stiles need to be surrogate sacrifices for your parents.” 

 

“We die for them?” 

 

Stiles dove in, “But he can bring us back.”  She turned to face Deaton again, “You can... you can bring us back, right?” 

 

Deaton’s face was placid.  “You remember the part where I said it was dangerous? If it goes right, the three of you will be dead for a few seconds, but there's something else you need to think about. This is a dangerous thing for more reasons than one. You'll be giving power back to the Nemeton, a place that hasn't had power for a long time. This kind of power is like a magnet. It attracts the supernatural, the kind of things that a family like the Argents can fill the pages of a bestiary with. It will draw them here, like a beacon.” 

 

Stiles shrugged hurriedly.  “Doesn't sound any worse than anything we've already seen.” 

 

The look Deaton gave this time was grave. “You’d be surprised at what you have yet to see.”

 

A silence and then Scott asked,  “Is that it?” 

 

“No. It'll also have an effect on the three of you. You won’t be able to see it, but you’ll feel it every day for the rest of your lives. It’ll be a kind of darkness around your heart, and permanent, like a scar.” 

 

“Like a tattoo.”  Scott intoned, his attention on his upper left arm.

 

The memories cycled through and suddenly Deaton, Scott, Lydia, Stiles, Allison, and Isaac were inside the vet clinic.  There were three large tubs filled with water, ice, and mistletoe waiting, spread through the middle of the room.  There was a dead silence until Stiles’ phone rang.  It was Derek’s older self.  Stiles put the phone on speaker and the groups both visible and invisible listened in.

 

“What’s up, Sourwolf.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”  Came the immediate response.  

 

“You’re going to have to make me.  Now what’s up?”

 

“There’s a way I can save Cora.  There’s no time to debate it--I’m going to do it.  I listened to what you said earlier about talking to the Pack.  This is the closest I could get.”  A deep sigh scraped across the line.  “What I’m about to do...it requires me giving up my Alpha status.”  Gasps broke out but Stiles waved them down.  

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I can only save Cora if I give up the Alpha abilities I have.”

 

“Will you be okay?”  Stiles’ voice is soft, softer than they have ever heard her be in regards to Derek’s older self.

 

A grunt on the other side of the line.  “I will be.  I’ll be weak because I’m falling to Beta but I’ll be fine.”  He paused before continuing,  “Any idea on how to find your parents?”

 

The groups watched Stiles survey the room before her before she responded.  “Yeah.  We have a plan.”

 

Short silence sat between the two parties on the phone.  “What is it?”

 

“It’s not completely safe.”  Stiles joked, or at least tried to.  “But we’ve got this.  Save your sister, Derek.  Call if you need anything.”

 

Everyone was waiting for a reply but silence and a click was all they hear in response.  Stiles looked down at her phone not with amazement or disbelief but a weary acceptance.  She tossed the phone to Isaac and faced Deaton.  “Let’s do this.”

 

Deaton stepped forward and addressed Stiles, Scott, and Allison. “All right. What did you bring?” 

 

Stiles stepped forward first.  “Um, I got my dad's badge. Jennifer kind of crushed it in her hand, so I tried hammering it out a bit. Still doesn't look great.” 

 

Deaton nodded. “Well, it doesn't need to look good if it has meaning.”  He turned towards Allison to look in her hand and saw what was resting in her open palm.  “Is that an actual silver bullet?” 

 

“My dad made it. It's kind of a ceremonial thing. When one of us finishes learning all the skills to be a hunter, we forge a silver bullet as a testament to the code.”

 

Another nod and Deaton turns to Scott.  

 

“My dad got my mom this watch when she first got hired at the hospital. She used to say it was the only thing in their marriage that ever worked.” 

 

The room was silent, everyone absorbing what was happening and what would be happening.  

 

Deaton broke the silence to circle around the tubs.  “Okay, the three of you will get in. Each of us will hold you down until you’re essentially...well, dead. But it’s not just someone to hold you under. It needs to be someone who can pull you back, someone that has a strong connection to you, a kind of emotional tether.”  He paused here to survey the assembled teens.  “Lydia...You go with Stiles.  Isaac with Allison and I’ll go with Scott.” 

 

Time began to slow as Derek watched the groups split into pairs and stand before the tubs.  Scott on the far left, Stiles at the center, and Allison at the right tub.  Scott, Stiles, and Allison began to remove jackets, shoes, socks and other trinkets before all three began to clamber into the tubs.  Derek and his family watched as the three settled into their freezing tubs, their bodies shaking and trembling as Deaton, Lydia, and Isaac stood behind them, their hands upon the trio’s shoulders.

 

Stiles turned to face Scott suddenly, “By the way, if I don’t make it back and you do, you should probably know something.”  Stiles waited until Scott turned to face her. “Your dad’s in town.”  

 

Scott nodded and the two faced forward once more.  Derek watched helplessly, horrified as Deaton’s future self, Lydia, and Isaac pushed the three in the tubs down until the water covered them completely.  The group watched the three standing members of Stiles’ fledgling pack hold down Stiles, Scott and Allison in the tubs as they began to thrash, flail, claw to be free, to fight for air.  Derek felt trapped, held steadfast as he and his family watched as each person in the tub stopped fighting and finally fell still.  He could do nothing as he watched Stiles, Scott, and Lydia die.

 

Suddenly the group was yanked forward.  Everything was collapsing and tumbling around them.  Sight and sound became flashes, screams echoing there and gone until suddenly they found themselves in that bright, white room they had landed in before--the room Stiles had said was the entrance to her mind.  The only difference was the addition of the three metal tubs set some distance away from the Nemeton trunk.

 

Derek turned towards the Nogitsune in askance.  

 

She rolled her eyes but answered his silent inquiry.  “We’re not done.  This is just the next stop.”

 

Before he could question her more, gasps and splashing sounded from the tubs and he turned to watch as the trio clambered out of them, confused and gasping.  They look around and when they see the Nemeton, they begin to walk towards it, shuffling around the prying roots, the broken floor tiles until they stand right beside it.  All three move forward to touch the surface and a blinding white light erupts.  

 

The pack finds themselves thrown back to the night when Stiles and Scott had snuck out to find the missing half of Laura’s body.  They watched as Stiles’ present self watched her younger self and Scott arrive and walk right passed her.  Time jumps and she sees herself being grabbed by her father and as her father and her younger self began walking in her direction, the invisible pack watched as Stiles tripped over the Nemeton stump.

 

That blaring of noises and silence coalesced again and the pack found themselves back in the veterinary clinic just in time to hear the sounds of the trio emerging from the water again--that gasping, choking sound mixed with water sloshing.  They watched as Scott and Allison sat up and Deaton, Isaac, and Lydia raced in to cover them with blankets.  And they watched as everyone noticed that Stiles had not yet risen and began to panic. 

 

As though their panicking was a cue, Stiles sat up in the tub, grasping and clawing, water thrown from the sides,.  Derek watched Isaac race forward and begin hauling Stiles’ shivering form out of the tub.  Deaton rushed towards her with a towel which he threw around her and he began to check over her.  

 

“Stiles.  Stiles, I need to see your eyes.  Can you open them?”

 

Stiles was still heaving in air and didn’t appear to hear as she lolled forward in Isaac’s arms.  Deaton stepped closer, pulling a penlight from his pocket and began to open her eyes manually.  He appeared to flinch as he got a look which prompted Derek to step forward.  Stiles’ eyes were glowing that molten gold color.  That color that signified her magic was roiling beneath her flesh.  The assembled group came closer to see what was the matter and once they saw Stiles’ molten eyes, their jaws dropped.  

 

Deaton seemed to draw himself back together.  “It would appear that I was wrong about your spark, Ms. Stilinski.”  It was the closest to an apology Derek had ever heard the man make.  “I would be happy to help you navigate your abilities after we deal with the present crises.”  

 

The reminder steadied everyone.

 

Scott broke the stilted silence.  “I saw it. I know where it is.” 

 

Stiles’ voice was scratchy, her eyes still swirling.  “We passed it. There's-- There's a stump, this huge tree. Well, it's not huge anymore. It was cut down. But it's still big, though, very big.” 

 

Scott picked up the thread.  “It was the night we were looking for the body.” 

 

“Yeah, the same night you were bit by Peter.” 

 

Allison’s voice jumped in.  “I was there too, in the car with my mother. We almost hit someone.” 

 

Scott whirled towards Allison.  “It was me. You almost hit me.” He paused for a moment, “We can find it.” 

 

The trio finally appeared to notice how Deaton, Isaac and Lydia were staring at the drowned trio.  Allison was the one to break that particular silence.  “What?” 

 

Isaac stepped forward.  “You guys were out a long time.” 

 

Stiles looked up, her eyes still burning.  “How long is a long time?” 

 

“Sixteen hours.” Deaton threw out.

 

Scott looked horrified.  “We’ve been in the water for sixteen hours?” 

 

Deaton looked nonplussed though his eyes were dimmed slightly.  “And the full moon rises in less than four.”

 

Stiles looked as though the world had shifted right from beneath her.  “And four hours to save our parents.”

 

Time and memory cycled forward until the trio was dressed in dry, warm clothes and the entire group was discussing plans.  Scott shared that he planned to go back to Deucalion to use him and his connections.  Stiles and Allison were against it and as was Isaac but Deaton pointed out that when war comes, new relationships are made when they are needed--even with people that no one would have normally made a pact with.  

 

Ethan breaks through the stilted silence and he begins to ask Lydia and the rest of the pack to help him stop his brother and Kali from killing Derek.  The group makes a deal to stop Kali and to save Aiden so that he and Ethan can move on.  An agreement is made and Lydia and Ethan head towards Derek’s loft with Stiles’ request that they tell Derek to run.

 

The group breaks off, Stiles to go to her house to grab something Scott could use to scent the Sheriff while Scott, Allison, and Isaac went to Allison’s to grab something of Chris’.  A storm begins to rumble from out of nowhere--reminiscent of the storm Stiles had sent into a maelstrom when she was threatened earlier by Derek’s mother.  Derek had a feeling that Stiles was not the cause of  _ this  _ storm.  That feeling only intensified when a high-pitched scream seemed to shake the world which caused Stiles’ whiskey eyes to flare that molten orange-gold colour.  And an Earth shattering roar explodes into the world sending Stiles’ eyes flaring even brighter as she continues to drive her jeep through the storm.  

 

The storm seems to break slightly around Stiles’ jeep before it swamped it again.  Stiles was racing through the storm to the location that she was supposed to meet Scott, Allison, and Isaac at.  She suddenly swerved as a tree branch slammed into the windshield.  Stiles glanced back to see what had hit her and once she turns back towards the windshield, Derek watches helplessly as the jeep spins out of her control and slams face first into a waiting tree.  The last thing Derek and his pack sees is Stiles unconscious and bleeding.

 

Memories cycled, the sounds of wind screaming through their ears, rain splattering, wood crashing as the trees trembled.  Derek and his family found Stiles trudging through the woods of the preserve but what caught his attention--and undoubtedly his pack’s--was that Stiles was walking unimpeded through the woods.  Her eyes that molten gold-orange as the effects of the storm were buffeted against a shield that was apparently surrounding her.  Stiles had an aluminum bat clenched in her right hand as she continued her trek.  

 

The Nemeton was fast approaching, the ground around it collapsing.  The pack watches as Stiles throws herself down into the pit and apparently just in time, pushes her aluminum bat under the collapsing structure that was beginning to crush Isaac.  The pack takes in the forms of Stiles’ father, Chris Argent, Scott’s mother, Allison, and Isaac.  Everyone was staring at Stiles in awe and relief.  Stiles’ eyes were still glowing but that didn’t seem to matter to her father who gathered her up in a strong embrace.  No one notices as the storm dies down, too busy hugging each other and laughing in relief.   

 

Stiles’ phone rings and a smile flashes as she answers the phone.  “Scott!”

 

The other side of the call was muffled as Stiles responded.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  We’re all okay.  You?”

 

She waited for the response.  “What do you mean Derek’s the True Alpha?  Holy shit.”  She breathed.  “I guess Deucalion got it wrong after all.  He still alive?”

 

A pause.  “What the fuck do you mean you let him go?”

 

Stiles ignored the jab from her father about her ‘language’ to continue listening to her phone call.  She sighed finally, heavily.  “We’re talking about this later.  For now, do you think you could come get us?  And bring a ladder?”

 

The memories cycle through.  The group under the Nemeton saved by Scott, the reunions between family members, the grateful hugs, the tears, and laughter.  The group watched everyone split off.  The invisible group followed Stiles and the Sheriff to the station where he made an appearance and then they followed them home where the two began to talk.  Stiles spun her tale and there was shouting and there were tears.  There was mention of threats and the grasping of a gun as Stiles finally told someone--her father--about what really happened the night of the lacrosse game.  The group watched as Stiles flinched away from her father’s hands as he attempted to see the marking upon her body.  They watched as she eventually gave up after telling her father that the man who had tortured her had been ‘dealt with’.  There was a look between them and then a nod as the two apparently decided to leave that subject untouched.

 

They watched the anger and horror come to the Sheriff’s face as he took in Stiles’ old wounds.  There were tears and shouts of self-recrimination from the Sheriff due to the fact that he had not noticed what had happened to his daughter.  Stiles tried to curb the Sheriff’s self-beration and while the Sheriff stopped voicing his words, everyone present knew that he would continue to hold himself responsible.  

 

The group watched as the words ran out and the hugs became tighter.  They watched as the night ended and the following days passed achingly slowly.  They watched as Stiles made her way to Erica and Boyd’s homes and talked with their families.  They watched as Stiles offered both families to take over or help with the burials of their loved ones.  Both families appeared heavily relieved when the offer fell from Stiles’ lips.  

 

Memories cycled through again to show Stiles and the rest of her pack including Derek’s older self standing in black between two coffins.  The crowd consisted only of Boyd’s mother and Erica’s parents alongside the pack, Stiles, and her father.  Eulogies were given, words spoken and flowers left on the graves.  Everyone barring Stiles and Derek dispersed.  They stood silently beside each other.  The group looked as Stiles turned her attention to the left and stared at a gravestone.  

 

_ Alicia Boyd _ .

 

No dates listed except the date of birth.  No end date, no inscription, only her name etched in unforgiving stone.

 

The name appeared to hit Derek’s mother quite a bit which sent everyone’s attention to her.  Sensing the eyes upon her, Talia looked up and shared, “That was the name of the girl Stiles saved at the ice rink.”

 

The group nodded in silence and resettled their focus as Stiles turned her attention back to the two caskets before her.  

 

Surprisingly, it was Derek that broke the silence.  “Thank you for doing this.”

 

Stiles glanced at him.  “It was the least I could do.”  She paused.  “I considered them my friends even if they didn’t see me as one.  And...I owed them.”

 

Derek’s older self looked at Stiles for a long moment, nodded once and faced the graves again.

 

“Scott said you were the True Alpha.  What happened?  He wouldn’t tell me.”

 

Derek’s older self remained staring blankly at the caskets.  “Deucalion was trying to force Scott to slash Jennifer’s throat, dragging him forward like Ethan and Aiden did to me with Boyd.”  He nodded towards the casket on the left.  “Jennifer broke away and created a circle of mountain ash when no one was paying attention.  I couldn’t let Scott have blood on his hands so I pushed towards it to kill her myself instead.  She didn’t realize that I still had the Alpha power.  Well, I lost it but once I heard Lydia’s scream, I felt this roaring in my blood and my vision go red.  I felt the strength I lost return.  And then I used it against the power of the circle.  I got close and I was able to power through.  She was so shocked that she didn’t notice Deucalion come through and slash her throat.  I was...surprised.  I didn’t notice Scott offer a deal to Deucalion.”

 

“What happened to her body?”

 

“I buried it.”  Derek’s voice was devoid of emotion.

 

“Are you sure she was dead?”

 

Derek’s eyes flashed red briefly, “Yes.”

 

Stiles nodded, taking in the story and Derek’s answer.

 

Derek spoke again, “What did you do to find your parents?”

 

The group watched Stiles recount what happened in Deaton’s clinic.  They watched her wrap up her tale when she turned to face Derek.  “I guess we both had an interesting night.”  Her eyes flared up.

 

Derek nodded in response.  The silence was no longer oppressive.  It felt contemplative, peaceful.

 

The memories cycled through and the pack landed with Stiles standing inside the clinic facing Deaton over his metal table.  

 

“What can I do for you, Ms. Stilinski?”  Deaton’s voice was calm as he took in Stiles’ form.

 

“You promised to help me after we dealt with the Alpha Pack.  It’s time I cash in on that promise.”  Stiles’ eyes were hard, watching Deaton intently.

 

He smiled slightly.  “Yes, I did.”

 

Stiles smiled in response, her eyes warming slightly.  “Then let’s begin.”

 

“Yes indeed.”

* * *

 

Derek and his pack were yanked back into the white room where the original form of Stiles in her pant suit sat waiting, unmoved from where they had last seen her.  She didn’t even glance in their direction.

 

“Was that all?”  Laura questioned, her confusion palpable, her voice loud in the empty space.

 

“No.”  Came the Nogitsune’s response.  “We’ll call this a weigh station of sorts.  If any of you want to maintain the illusion of a happy ending, this is your stop.  Stiles asked  _ so nicely _ that I provide you with a… ‘rip cord’ of sorts.  So, this is your port of harbour.”  She faced them all, a wicked gleam in her eyes.  “So choose wisely.”

 

No one took the invitation.  Everyone stood tense and silent.  Derek spoke up into the stifling quiet.  “Why did she ask you to give us an out here?”

 

That gleam became more pronounced, a giant, sinister smirk settling upon her features, the dead flesh cracking and flaking.  “Because, this is where you meet me and  _ everything _ changes.”

 

The cackle that left the Nogitsune’s throat was grating and sent chills down Derek’s spine as the world of the white room disappeared again, whirling and fading.  The cackle mixed with screams and everything turned black.  


	14. I Used To Think Death Was The Greatest Sacrifice But I Realise Now That Death Is Kind.  The Real Test Is In Living With The Glory And All Of It’s Consequences.  The Real Test Is Not The Battle, But The Aftermath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hale Pack continues to walk through Stiles' memories, the Nogitsune as their guide, and they'll find that some secrets and pasts should stay buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I hope you are doing well! Here we are with another chapter. And we've now hit 106 pages as the longest chapter:) Woot woot. A side note, I found need to split the entire montage of the Hale Pack going through Stiles' memories into another part so at the end, the entire journey through Stiles' past will take a total of 3 chapters. As with the previous chapter, most of the dialogues and scenes present have come from canon so props and rights to the original content owners. That said, I have added new scenes, changed new scenes, cut scenes, and even changed around some dialogue.
> 
> Trigger warning: Kate Argent, allusions to past rape, the Eichen house sex/rape scene (not explicitly shown but strongly indicative as to author's opinion on scene within canon series). If I missed anything please let me know and I will add to this list. 
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and your amazing comments and kudos--they made my day whenever I received them. I hope you enjoy!

“Gods dammit!”  Came the shout out of the swirl of darkness and screams.  

 

The blinding dark finally receded and Derek looked around to see Stiles standing in the veterinary clinic glaring at the metal table before her as Deaton stands to the side observing.  There was no way to tell how much time had passed since the final vision they had seen before the white room.  The only way to know that time had indeed elapsed was that the two figures were dressed differently, gone were their mourning clothes.  Deaton was dressed in something resembling what he wears now: a plain button down and tan slacks.  Stiles is dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt, her hair longer, swept up messily with pieces coming loose around her haggard face.

 

"Just take a deep breath and try again."  Came the calming tone of Deaton’s voice which broke Derek’s attention.

 

Stiles throws her hand through her hair and tugs slightly, pulling even more strands down.  She huffs, shoving it out of her face.  "What do you think I’m doing?"

 

There was no response.  Derek took the moment of quiet to look at the rest of his family taking in their surroundings.  They appeared slightly off-footed by the lack of terror that they were all undoubtedly expecting from the Nogitsune’s last words.  Speaking of that creature, Derek turns to the right and jumps slightly at how close she is standing to him.  She doesn’t appear to notice his flinch, her attention so focused on the events of the past playing out before her.  

 

A thud draws Derek’s attention towards Stiles.  Her face is red, her eyes wild with her fist still on the table from where she had dropped it.  To the left of her fist sits a bowl of some kind of black powdered substance.  He would hazard a guess that it was mountain ash.   

 

Deaton’s future self finally steps towards the partially slumped figure of Stiles.  "We talked about meditation.  Have you been working on it?"

 

Derek watched Stiles’ shoulders tighten.  "And we’ve also talked about how it doesn’t work for me."  

 

"Stiles, your magic reacts to your emotional state.  You need to find some kind of outlet before your magic decides to find it’s own."

 

Stiles turned sharply, "Don’t you think I’m trying?  Do you think I enjoy nearly vibrating out of my skin along with everything else?  You think I like feeling out of control?  Seeing the pack flinch when my eyes flare?"

 

The materials around the room in their various containers and pots began to tremble where they were resting.  Deaton looked unperturbed as Stiles continued to stare him down, her eyes beginning to glow.  

 

Derek watched as Stiles took in deep breaths with her eyes closing as they got deeper while her fists continuously clenched.  Everyone present could see how the objects quaked and then began to slowly steady and eventually settle.  

 

Stiles opened her eyes and regarded the impassive features of Deaton still standing across from her.  “I’m not apologizing."

 

"I expected no less."  Deaton was nearly stone faced.  What gave away his slight amusement was the upward twist of his lips.  "Now, if you’d please.  The mountain ash?"  

 

Without turning away from Deaton, Stiles lifted her right hand and snapped.  The ash from the bowl listed upwards and began to float in a circle above it.

 

A small smile finally graced Deaton’s lips.  "Congratulations Ms. Stilinski."

 

Stiles smiled back, her shoulders loosening as she lets out a huffing chuckle.  Lowering her hand, the ash falls back into the bowl on the table.  

 

"We will still need to work on finding you an outlet but I have been informed that I was not to keep you longer than 4 pm."

 

The assembled group heard the jangling sound from the front door signaling that someone had walked in.

 

"Deaton?  Stiles?"  Came a loud voice.  

 

"In the back, Lyds."  Stiles turned away from the door and began to gather her bag from the corner it had undoubtedly been thrown in.  

 

Lydia walked in dressed up much more than Stiles currently was and looked at both Deaton, who she nods at and at Stiles who she appears to catalog from top to bottom.  

 

"Thanks again, for the ride home, Lyds.  Roscoe will be patched up and back home by tomorrow afternoon."  She half turns, her bag clasped in her hand, "Damn tree."

 

Derek watches Lydia shake her head.  "Honestly Stiles.  You should give up on that jeep of yours.  It probably costs you more to fix it than it would be to buy a new jeep."

 

Stiles stopped mid step and looked intently at Lydia.  "I will never abandon that jeep.  And his name is Roscoe.  He’s not an ‘it’."

 

Lydia rolled her eyes but her expression was fond rather than annoyed as she turned on her heel and began to walk out of the back room, not looking to see if Stiles was following her.  Stiles did follow her, tripping slightly and calling out her farewells to Deaton.

 

The group watched as Stiles and Lydia clambered into one of the only cars left in the parking lot.

 

"Sooo, home right?"  Stiles’ voice was high pitched, her smile obviously strained which only increased and fell as Lydia shook her head, a laugh falling from her quirked lips.  "Damn."

 

Stiles readjusts herself in her seat as Lydia begins to drive away from the clinic.  

 

"Honestly I don’t know why you’re so surprised, Stiles.  We talked about this.  In exchange for a ride, I get to drag you shopping."  She ignored Stiles’ deep groan and sinking form as she continued, "A deal is a deal, Stilinski."

 

"Yeah but I still don’t understand why you’re so interested in doing this.  I mean there have to be a million other things you’d rather be doing than taking me shopping and listen to me shoot down a shit ton of your ideas.  Just saying."  

 

Lydia threw a quick glance over at where Stiles remained slumped in the passenger seat and Derek could see something flicker in her eyes before she faced forward once more.  He hears her take a deep breath before she speaks, still not looking at Stiles, "Actually I wanted this time to spend time with you."  The words immediately caused Stiles to double take and remain staring at Lydia while the other studiously avoided the searching stare that was now directed at her.  "I realized a while ago that I never said thank you," She glanced quickly at Stiles before facing forward once more, "For what you did...and what you said that night...with Jackson.  And everything that you did before and after that.  I realized that I wasn’t a very good friend.  And while I realize that we weren’t friends then, I consider us so now and I believe it is time to repay that debt and to...further that friendship."

 

Stiles had remained silent throughout the short speech that Lydia had given,  apparently rendered speechless which filled the air with a static quiet until she coughed lightly and leaned towards Lydia’s seat.  "Lydia, there is nothing to repay.  You don’t owe me anything.  There is no debt...and I would be glad to call us friends."  She smiled at the redhead.  

 

Lydia remains facing forward resolutely but she nods once, decisively.  "Well, now that that is out of the way,"  she flashes a small smile towards her, "Since we are now friends, I refuse to be seen with you looking like a boy band reject.  My research partner and the future Hale Pack Emissary deserves to look like more than a slovenly teenager, I think we can both agree."

 

Stiles sputtered at the description which caused both Derek and his assembled family to chuckle as they took in her face and that of the smirking driver.  

 

"There is nothing wrong with my wardrobe!  And besides even if there were-- you’re right!  We made a deal.  You said I could keep jeans and plaid shirts and some normal stuff.  A deal’s a deal, right, Lyds?"

 

Lydia sighed as though put-upon.  "Yes, Stiles.  I said you could keep those things but they will not be what you currently own.  I’ll buy you new outfits that fit those specifications.  You’re lucky I’m not taking a large garbage bag and throwing everything in your closet into it."

 

This remark rendered Stiles silent for the rest of the short drive before they arrived at the local mall where the two proceeded to get out and walk towards the revolving doors.  The invisible pack watched as Stiles was near bodily drug across the mall first into an expensive looking salon and then eventually into various stores to try out multiple items--the pile of their purchases growing larger and even more unmanageable.  The group watched as the two young women became frequently frustrated with one another but they also watched as they fell into a steady, teasing repartee.  Eventually the two were laughing even as Stiles was conscripted to try even more clothes on.  One of the two must have noted how much time passed for the two began to gather their most recent purchases and began their trek to Lydia’s car.  The sun had fallen to grace the tips on the mountains that surrounded Beacon Hills and the two efficiently packed away the parcels and settled themselves into their respective seats.  

 

"I think I bought enough clothes to last me through my life, Lyds."  Stiles huffed out as she sank once more into her seat.

 

Lydia scoffed, rolling her eyes for Stiles had continuously made the comment throughout their adventure.  "Not even close.  I only purchased enough to get you through the remaining year.  I’m also going to take you dress shopping for prom.  Don’t even think you’re getting out of it Stilinski."  She threatened when she saw Stiles sit up straight and her jaw no doubt dropped to send out a refusal.  Stiles grumbled, crossing her arms and sunk even lower in the seat, her gaze going to the window.  Lydia continued in a softer voice, "Besides, clothes are a form of armor, Stiles.  And we could all use a bit more armor than we have.  Especially you and I.  Never forget that."

 

The two were silent for a moment as Stiles appeared to contemplate those words before she broke it, "Thank you Lydia."  Her voice was soft but rich, strong.  

 

There was no sound or word to indicate that Lydia was going to answer but the assembled group saw the tension fall from Stiles’ shoulders and a small smile flit upon her lips.  

 

Images blurred and disappeared as the group was taken to a new memory, now not phased as they watched memories pass them by, catching only whispers of disjointed conversations, views of memories deemed undoubtedly too bland for their cruel guide, and the scent of emotions that were there one moment and gone the next.  

 

They saw what seemed to be times of the pack training, Stiles and the other humans training as well, and even some pack movie nights and dinners thrown in which seemed to occur either at Derek’s future self’s place or in the living room of the Stilinski’s home.  They saw Stiles continue her training under Deaton, getting more powerful and focused even as Derek and his family watched her begin to grow pale and unsteady, her eyes red and her magic unreliable at times.  They watched as her magic responded and whipped about her like the storm that had sent her careening into that tree.  And Derek knows that everyone present saw Stiles waking in the night screaming throughout the snatches of memories they have seen.  

 

And the memories came to a stop on one such night.  

 

Stiles was tossing and turning in her bed, her sheets wrapping around her body to restrict her movements.  Derek can hear her mumbling quick, fearful ‘no’s and he watches intently as she turns onto her side and finds himself stumbling mentally when he and his family see her standing upright inside a high school locker.  They all jump as Stiles begins to bang on the door and shout until a figure on the outside appears and then disappears almost in the same breath.  The pack follows right on Stiles’ tail as she is able to stumble out of the locker and begins to traverse the dark, empty halls of the high school until she comes across a classroom waiting with its door wide open, a maw waiting to devour.   They follow with trepidation as Stiles steps in and comes across a destroyed classroom with the Nemeton sitting within it, the roots tearing up the floor and pushing desks towards the four corners.  The group can do nothing as Stiles steps towards it and once she lifts a hand to touch its bare top, roots wrap around her wrist and reel her in, the group can do nothing but be dragged haphazardly with her as she appears to re-awaken in her room.  

 

A figure sits up beside her--Lydia--and begins to rub Stiles’ back and offer soothing words.  The group watches in bewilderment at the set up.  It would not be odd to find the two sharing a room, let alone a bed but there was something off about the situation which was only compounded as Stiles herself began to question Lydia’s presence.  Before Lydia could answer, the group and Stiles turned towards the closet door which opened seemingly of its own accord.  Stiles began to clamber from her bed ignoring Lydia’s grasping hands and increasingly desperate pleas for her to leave the door and return to her.  She just kept repeating some variation of the refrain, ‘but what if they get it?’ which sent a chill down the wolves’ spines.  The group watches silently, unable to move themselves as Stiles approached the door, whipped it open, stared into the darkness, and then stepped inwards.  

 

Despite not actively following Stiles, they find themselves stumbling alongside her as she is then transported to outside where flood lights came on, drowning out the night.  The lights illuminated the Nemeton once more before her.  

 

Stiles’ voice is trembling, her eyes wide open and glassy as she runs her hands through her hair and pulls them into claws that draw down her ears as she spits out desperately, "It’s a dream.  This is just a dream.  Come on!  Get it out of your head Stiles, you’re dreaming okay?  You’re dreaming alright?  So come on, wake up, Stiles!  Wake up!"

 

The last two words were screamed, hurtled out like daggers and suddenly the group and Stiles were back in her room.  It was morning.  The sunlight was streaming through the windows and the assembled group could hear bird chirping outside her window.  Stiles was laying in bed gasping while her dad stuck his head into her room, "Hey, time to get up kiddo.  Get your butt to school."

 

Stiles nodded shakily and began to clamber from her bed and the memories appeared to fast forward slightly until the group was watching Stiles and Scott compare notes about the weird occurrences happening to them.  Stiles was describing her nightmares and when the two settled into their seats in whatever classroom they were in, Stiles leaned forward so as not to be overheard.  "You wanna know what scares me the most?"  Stiles waits briefly until Scott is looking at her once more before continuing, "I’m not even sure this is real."

 

As soon as the last word falls from her lips, the group is transported back into Stiles’ room to see her spring up and begin screaming and thrashing in her bed.  They watched as she clawed at herself, staring unseeingly at nothing with glowing eyes as her voice continued to carry her sharp scream which cut deeply at Derek and his family--they remember hearing that scream before.  The last time it had heralded the regrowing of the Nemeton and the disappearance of Stiles.  

 

Derek felt a shiver run down his spine--he doesn’t think this scream means the same thing at all.  Suddenly Stiles’ bedroom door is thrown open and the pack watches as Stiles’ father rushes in, slamming on the light, and nearly slipping on discarded items all over the floor in his haste to get to his daughter.  He slots in right behind her and attempts to both hug and restrain her.  He’s making soothing sounds and trying to get through to her as he calls her name with a mixture of authority and fear.  Stiles continues to thrash but now the screaming has ceased.  Her eyes are still blazing but now there are tears flowing down her face as she begins gasping.  The group can do nothing but watch in shock, worry and trepidation as the two sit together--the sheriff attempting to piece his daughter back together and Stiles sitting restlessly, eyes frantic and burning until the morning sun begins to burn away the night outside.  

 

Eventually the two disentangle and the sheriff walks out of the room mumbling about starting the coffee while Stiles remains seated in her disheveled sheets.  Eventually she gets up, gets dressed and begins to gather her school things but the pack watches her pause as she holds up a textbook.  No one can see why she paused but the Nogitsune, the ever helpful creature it is, drops in that the words are all out of order and that symbols have appeared in place of the words.  

 

She--it--appears to take great joy in Stiles’ suffering.  Her gloating is quickly pushed aside however as the Sheriff reappears in the doorway, dressed now in his sheriff garb, holding a box close to his chest.  Stiles stuffs her book in her bag and looks at him.  Derek can see that Stiles has already erected her walls and that thought is reaffirmed as he watches Stiles reassure her father that it was nothing but a nightmare and that she was fine.  She then changed the subject to ask about the box her father was holding that clearly stated, ‘Sheriff’s Station: Do Not Remove’.  The two exchanged a fond couple of words and then Stiles was on her way.  

 

At the school, Stiles, Scott, and Allison are quickly gathered together by Lydia who reveals that all three of them are having trouble after the sacrifice.  The group learns that while Stiles appears to be haunted by neverending nightmares, Allison continuously sees her dead aunt trying to kill either her or have her help kill her friends, and Scott is losing control of his shifting and he continuously sees himself morphing into the monstrous version of Peter that had bitten him.  The day passes by in a blur as they watched Stiles attempt to get in her locker and Scott began to transform right before her eyes in the middle of the hallway.  They watched Stiles drag Scott to an empty classroom where he began to stab his claws through his own hands to gain control of his wayward shifting.  The two end up sitting across from eachother--Scott’s hands covered in his own drying blood and Stiles watching him intently as she continuously separates and groups her fingers together.

 

"Scott, this isn’t just in our heads.  This is real…and it’s starting to get bad for me too."  She shuffled closer, "I’m not just having nightmares.  I’m having dreams where I have to literally scream myself awake.  And sometimes...I’m not even sure if I’m ever actually waking up."  Stiles looks down at her hands and then begins to slowly unfold herself and stand while Scott remains on the ground.  

 

"What do you mean?"

 

She ignores the question, her mind seemingly elsewhere, "Do you know how you can tell if you’re dreaming?  You can’t read in dreams.  More and more, these last few days, I haven’t been able to read.  It’s like I can’t see the words--like I can’t put them into order."  She reveals.

 

"Like even now?"

 

The pack watches Stiles glance around, her eyes sharp but with silver lining them slightly, "I can’t read a thing."  

 

Colors and memories zip by the group as they stand silent, just watching the world swim by them.  

 

Stiles marched into the Sheriff’s office with a large bouquet of flowers, talking even before she makes it fully through the door of her father’s office, "You know, the last time we brought one of these to her grave, it was stolen the same day. Hundred bucks down the drain."  Stiles places the flowers down on the desk and begins to turn in a circle trying to find her dad who she sees sitting on the floor surrounded by stacks of manilla folders.  "Hi, what are you doing down there?"

 

"Working. And hey, if somebody wants the flowers that badly, they can have them. It's the gesture."  The man sends an absent smile upwards but then focuses once more on the paperwork surrounding him.  He doesn’t notice as Stiles steps closer to him.

 

"Hey, Dad, what is all this?"

 

The Sheriff stands and makes his way out of the pile of paperwork to stand beside his daughter. "I've been looking over some old cases from a more illuminated perspective, if you know what I mean."  He rubbed the back of his neck as he took in the mess.   

 

"Strange sighting of bipedal lizard man sprinting across freeway?"  Stiles’ face and voice were incredulous as she read the file in her hands.   

 

"Kanima pile."  He points towards the pile at her feet.

 

Stiles puts the folder down carefully in the indicated pile before she turns towards her father, "Dad, you're not going back through all your old cases seeing if any of them had something to do with the supernatural, are you?"

 

The Sheriff looks vaguely embarrassed but pushes through it. "I admit the recent opening of my eyes to the greater mysteries of the universe has got me reassessing. There's at least 100 cases here where I look at the details and I can ask myself, "If I knew then what I know now".

 

Stiles nods quietly, her face equal parts thoughtful and worried. "Right, but are you sure you wanna go down that path?"

 

The group watches as the Sheriff stops his motions and appears to contemplate his response.  "Do I have a choice?"  When no answer is forthcoming from Stiles, the man jumps towards his desk and comes away triumphant with a manilla folder that is more worn than the others. He holds it tightly in his hand as his attention becomes divided between looking towards his daughter and staring at the folder. "There's one case in particular that I can’t seem to get out of my head. Eight years ago when I was elected Sheriff, my first official duty was to tell a man that not only had his wife and two kids died in a car accident, but, as best we could tell, the body of one of his daughters had been dragged from the wreck by coyotes."

 

Stiles blinked once.  "You mean dragged and eaten?"

 

"We didn’t find the car until three days after the crash. They had driven off the road into a pretty deep ravine...the two bodies that were still in the car were covered in bites and slashes."

 

"So you're thinking bites and claw marks, probably a werewolf attack?"

 

The Sheriff shrugged so Stiles continued in the silence, "But coyotes, they scavenge, right? So, couldn’t they have just left the bites and the slashes?"

 

"Absolutely. But guess what night the accident occurred on?" The Sheriff was now solely focused on his daughter and the pack watched as Stiles caught his full meaning.  

 

"The night of a full moon."

 

Nodding, the Sheriff responded, "Yeah."

 

It was at that moment Stiles glances around the room once more and appears to focus intently on a collection of boxes that read, "Deliver to FBI Field Office-- Special Agent McCall" and she half turned towards her father, "Hey, Dad, where are all these going?"

 

Glancing at where his daughter appeared to be focused, the man let out a gusting breath.  "Yeah, we, uh. We probably need to talk about that.  I’m being investigated by the FBI--specifically McCall.  It’s an inquiry into my work.  The bureau feels that I am not doing my job properly as Sheriff.  I have more unsolved cases than solved and we’ve already had multiple murders pop up.  Too many for a small town."

 

The pack watched Stiles’s eyes brighten, not glow, but become more luminescent as she tightened her hands into fists.  "And this is McCall’s doing?"

 

The tone of Stiles’ words must have cued her father into the fact that his daughter was quickly growing angry because he abandoned his work to lean closer to her, his eyes searching hers even as she focused with intensity on the label adorning the boxes.  "Stiles.  Stiles, it’s fine.  Everything will be alright."

 

At this Stiles glanced up at him, "You’re right.  Everything will be fine."  And while the words by themselves would be comforting, the tone and the fact that Stiles’ eyes were still glowing left much to be desired in regards to her attempted calm.

 

"Hey now," The man pushed, "There’s nothing we can do, Stiles.  Just take a deep breath okay? McCall is just doing his job."  The pack could immediately tell that even the Sheriff didn’t believe his own uttered words.  And it looked as though neither did his daughter.  He quickly amended, "We’re going to be fine, Stiles."

 

The memories skip ahead leaving the pair in the fading office.  Instead, Stiles is now returned to school and is walking into her classroom just as the bell rings where she eventually stops at an occupied desk.  "Hi, sorry, I usually sit there."  The group and Stiles just watch as the student currently sitting in her seat begins to sign at her.  Stiles steps back, "Okay, no problem. That's all yours."  With that she walks towards a seat that was actually empty.  She began to put down her books when she froze.  There were no sounds within the classroom-- something that everyone present knew was impossible.   

 

Suddenly Coach Finstock stepped in front of the classroom and Derek watched as Stiles slumped forward in relief, "Hey, Coach. Thought I was in the wrong class for a second."  The smile that had begun to spread across her face froze as even Finstock began to mimic the sign language of the student who had stolen her chair.  "Um Okay. I don’t actually know sign language... actually, I didn’t even know that you knew sign language… or that that was even an elective here."  

 

Stiles’ speech became more and more strained as the people surrounding her began to mimic both the coach and the first student.  Stiles stood with her books and began to walk quickly towards the door, her back not towards the weird image happening in front of her.  "Well, this has been good, I’m probably gonna, uh, head out."  Before she can turn to open the door however, the signing gets faster and faster, the room appears to be shrinking and Stiles suddenly crumples into herself, dropping her books and covering her ears as a sharp piercing sound breaks through the crushing silence.

 

The pack watches Stiles jerk upright in her chair as Finstock backs up from her space, his whistle still stuck between his lips before he spat it out.  "Stilinski!"

 

"Uh-huh?"

 

"I asked you a question."

 

Stiles looked around her but eventually returned her attention frontwards, "Uh sorry, Coach. What was it?"

 

Coach Finstock stood up to his full height as he answered, "It was "Stilinski, are you paying attention back there?"  And obviously I have my answer."

 

Stiles flushed.  "Oh. Well, I am now."

 

The man rolled his neck, turned towards the front of the classroom and began to walk towards his desk as he grumbled out, "Stilinski, stop reminding me why I drink... every night. Does anybody else want to try the question on the board?"

 

Stiles glances towards Scott who is seated right beside her.  He has a weird look on his face.  "I’m okay. I just fell asleep for a second."  Stiles reassures him.  Although she appears not to find it reassuring when Scott’s face twists even more.

 

"Dude. You weren’t asleep."  At this he gestured towards Stiles’ desk where she proceeded to look down and freeze.

 

Derek looked over her shoulder and he could feel his family creeping in and that shiver came back, violently shaking him as he saw that scribbled upon Stiles’ notebook where variations of the phrase ‘wake up’.  

 

The memories fast forwarded until the two groups were outside gathered together around a lunch table.   The sounds filters in.

 

Scott’s voice came first, "Okay, so what happens to a person who has a near-death experience and comes out of it seeing things?"

 

Stiles jumps in then. "And is unable to tell what's real or not?"

 

Followed by Allison. "And is being haunted by demonic visions of dead relatives?"

 

An older Isaac answers the silence.  "They’re all locked up because they’re _insane_."

 

Stiles leaned towards Isaac, her eyes flashing briefly before returning to normal.  A sarcastic laugh jumped out of her throat. "Can you at least try to be helpful, please?"

 

"For half my childhood, I was locked in a freezer. So, being helpful is kind of a new thing for me."  At this, Stiles froze and readjusted.  Her frustration no longer prominent on her face nor in her scent.  Now she only looks at him quietly, contemplatively.  Derek can see Isaac shifting uncomfortably but that his scent showed he was secretly pleased and trying to hide it. The stare off was broken by the appearance of the new girl that the pack had seen this morning.   

 

"Hi. Hi, sorry."  She broke in, waving shyly.  "I couldn’t help overhearing what you guys were talking about. And I think I actually might know what you’re talking about. There’s a Tibetan word for it. It’s called ‘Bardo.’ It literally means ‘in-between state.’ The state between life and death."

 

Lydia sat up straight and stared hard at the girl.  "And what do they call you?"

 

Scott jumped in here, excited.  "Kira. She’s in our History class."

 

Derek could feel his entire family become filled with tension as Deaton made a distressed sound.  When he looked back at Deaton it was to see him looking a green-ish hue despite him attempting to keep his face fairly blank.  He waved everyone forward, his eyes shadowed.  

 

Humming to herself, Lydia relaxed back slightly but continued to stare at Kira.  "So are you talking Bardo in Tibetan Buddhism or Indian?"

 

This appeared to spark something within Kira because she straightened and a smile came upon her face.  Stiles slid over to allow Kira to sit beside her which the girl did and leaned forward, her arms on the table, expression vibrant.  "Either, I guess. But all the stuff you guys were just saying? All that happens in Bardo. There are different progressive states where you can have hallucinations. Some you see, some you just hear. And you can be visited by peaceful and wrathful deities."  

  


"Wrathful deities? And what are those?"  Isaac breaks in.

 

"Like demons."

 

At this Stiles throws her arms up and glances around the table at the rest of her companions. "Demons. Why not?  Of course there’s demons.  Why am I not surprised?"

 

Allison was quiet but she looked up at Kira, her expression confused.  "Hold on, if there are different progressive states, then what’s the last one?"

 

The question sent the table into silence as they all stared at Kira.  Apparently sensing the gravity of the query, Kira’s enthusiastic attitude died a quick death.  "There are actually two things that happen.  Bardo is a bridge or period between death and rebirth in the next life.  If you don’t believe in reincarnation though, then the answer is simple: you die."

 

The images swirled and the group found themselves with Scott and Stiles within Deaton’s office.  It appears the two had just finished recounting what had been happening with them as Deaton responds while looking directly at Stiles, "It appears as though your subconscious is trying to communicate with you. I do wish that you had told me sooner Ms. Stilinski that this is what was troubling you.  Perhaps we could have looked into it sooner."

 

Stiles stared dead at him, looking into his eyes for a time before responding.  "This was the first time that this sign language stuff has happened.  It’s only been nightmares before.  Now, since we can’t go back and undo the past, how about we deal with the new crazy that is happening now? What was my subconscious trying to tell me then?  And how exactly do I tell my subconscious to use a language that I actually know?"

 

Deaton nodded at her words.  "Do you remember what the sign language looked like? The placement and movement of the hands?"

 

Scott jumped in.  "You know sign language?"

 

Deaton smiled slightly at his student.  "I know a little. Let me give it a shot."  He motioned towards Stiles.

 

"Okay, it was like this."  Stiles began to repeat the motion.  Once, twice, three times just to make sure Deaton was able to see the words.

 

"When is a door not a door?"

 

"When is a door not a door?"  Stiles repeated.

 

"When it’s ajar."  Everyone looked towards Scott surprised.  He only shrugs under their combined stare before Stiles breaks off and looks directly at Deaton.   

 

"You’re kidding me. A riddle? My subconscious wants to tell me a riddle?"

 

Deaton shook his head.  "Not necessarily. When the three of you went under the water, when you crossed from unconsciousness to a kind of super-consciousness, you essentially opened a door in your minds."

 

"So what does that mean? The door’s still open?"  Scott questioned.

 

"Ajar."

 

Stiles gives Deaton a side eye as he corrects Scott.  Shrugging that off, she clarifies, "A door into our minds?"

 

Deaton did give the two teenagers a look.  "I did tell you it was risky."

 

Stiles’ eyes flashed while Scott stepped in.  "What do we do about it?"

 

"Well, that’s difficult to answer."  Deaton winced.

 

Derek looked between the three and saw Stiles stand up straight while staring at Deaton.  She pointed a finger towards him, her face accusing.  "Oh, no, wait a second, I know that look. That’s the "we know exactly what’s wrong with you but we have no idea how to fix it" look."  She turned towards Scott.  "I hate that look."

 

Deaton rolled his eyes at this, taking a breath.  "One thing I do know is that having an opening like that into your mind, it’s not good. You each need to close that door. And you need to do it as soon as possible."

 

Deaton appeared as though he was about to continue but before he could the groups saw the Sheriff walk into the examination room.  Stiles moved towards him, expression worried as she took in his presence.  "Dad, what are you doing here?"

 

He stepped forward slightly into the room looking at the three of them.  "I’m here because I could use some help."  He faces Scott directly.  "Actually _your_ help."

 

Scott looked confused and shared a look with Stiles before facing her father.  "Why me?"

 

"Because eight years ago, almost an entire family died in a car accident. One of the bodies, a young girl named Malia, was never found. There’s enough evidence to have me thinking that a werewolf could have caused the accident, and then dragged her body away. If you could somehow get a lock on her scent if you could somehow help me find her body, it might provide the missing clue."   

 

"But what if it was a werewolf?" Stiles questioned.

 

The Sheriff stood upright and addressed the two teens, "Well, there’s somebody out there who murdered an entire family. Someone who still needs to be caught."

 

Derek and his family watched as some memories fast forwarded, too quick to catch sight of what actually happened.  The next time the memories stopped, the group was once more in a classroom--the same one they had appeared in where they had met the new girl, Kira.  They landed just in time to see Scott drag a heavily shaking and gasping Stiles out of the room, supporting her the whole way.  The pack followed quickly after the pair and saw Scott direct Stiles into the boy’s restroom where he proceeded to lock the doors behind them as Stiles staggered away and to the sink where she falls to the ground.

 

Scott crowds close to her, his knees hitting the ground with a thud as he takes in her frantic breathing.  "Stiles, look at me.  Is this a panic attack?"

 

Stiles appears to not even hear the question.  She is gasping and raking her hands through her hair, pulling it down.  "It’s a dream, it’s a dream. This is just a dream."  She repeats, shaking.

 

Scott pushes towards Stiles even more now.  "No, it’s not. This is real. You’re here. You’re here with me."  Seeing that he appears to be getting through to her, he comes closer.  "Okay, what do you do? I mean, like, how do you tell if you’re awake or dreaming?"

 

It takes Stiles multiple times between her gasps to get her words out fully.  "Your fingers... you count your... fingers. You have extra fingers in... dreams."

 

Jumping onto Stiles’ words, Scott held up his hands right in front of Stiles’ face.  "How many do I have?"  He noticed Stiles wasn’t quite grasping onto what he was trying to do so hey nudged her, his voice commanding, "Hey! Look at me. Come on, Stiles. Look at my hands and count with me."

 

Stiles finally looks towards Scott’s fingers and between her gasps, she begins, "One. Two."

 

"Keep going."  Scott encouraged, two fingers down already.

 

"Three. Four."

 

"Five."  Scott supplied.

 

Stiles nodded, breathless.  "Six. Seven."

 

"Eight."

 

"Nine… ten."  Stiles’ breaths were evening out.  Her pants coming after longer pauses.

 

Putting down his final finger, "Ten."  He straightens them all again, one at a time. "Ten.  There are ten, Stiles.  This is real.   _We_ are real."

 

Stiles slumped back against the wall behind her.  Her breathing still elevated but nothing like it was during her attack.  "What the hell is happening to me?"

 

Scott settled beside her, nudging her slightly.  "We’ll figure it out. You’re going to be okay."  

 

" _Am_ I? Are you? Scott, you can’t transform. Allison’s being haunted by her dead aunt. And I’m straight up _losing my mind_. We can’t do this. We can’t... we can’t help Malia. We can’t help anyone."   

 

"We can try."  Scott assured her.  "We can always try."

 

Time skipped forward again delivering the family once more into Stiles’ bedroom.  Much time had apparently passed because it was night and she appeared to be deeply enmeshed in her new nightmare.  Sweat had broken out on her brow and her head swung sharply from one direction to the other as she continued to mumble, ‘no’.

 

Suddenly without any indication or anything occurring that the invisible group could see, Stiles became deathly still and then all at once, her back bowed against the bed and she released a shriek that doubled, and echoed, and throbbed until her head sprung up from the pillow and the scream cut off as sudden as it had begun.  She was sitting up in her bed, clutching her left arm tightly to her chest.  The unexpected scream did not bring her father racing in as it had previously but it instead sends Stiles rushing out of her room and sliding to a stop before her bathroom mirror, her eyes still blinking from the blinding light that spilled from overhead.  

 

The pack crowded around her to see what had her so transfixed--to see what had sent her into a scream so much more reminiscent to the one that had sent the family to their knees in their own time.  That strange doubling that was there that had driven them to the ground with blood falling from their ears.  Looking down, everyone could see the flesh of Stiles’ inner left forearm start to darken.  The skin becoming darker and covered in some kind of ink that swirled and devoured her once pale flesh.  Stiles was grunting, her face awash in pain as she watched helplessly as the skin from the midpoint between her wrist and the her inner elbow darken the blackest, swirling ink with tendrils running down to her fingertips.  

 

Everyone assembled watched as Stiles looked at her arm in disbelief.  And they watched how she counted her fingers three times before determining that this must be reality.  She began to trace her right pointer finger down the new addition to her skin.  

 

The invisible group turned towards Deaton as he uttered an understanding sound.  "It would appear," he began, "that Ms. Stilinski has an even deeper connection to the Nemeton than I had originally believed."

 

Before anyone could question him a shrill ringing interrupted the reverent, contemplative silence that had taken over Stiles which sent her rushing out of the bathroom and snatching up the phone before it could go to voicemail.  

 

"Lyds, what’s wrong?  Is everything okay?"  

 

"What do you mean?  Wait, wait, wait.  Lyds, slow down!"  Stiles was pacing, dragging her unoccupied hair through her hand, her forehead pinched as she listened to the other side of the call.  "Yeah I was sleeping.  I felt something burning and then I was awake.  Nothing’s wrong though."  She glanced down at her arm.  "Nothing horrible is wrong...I think."  She amended.

 

"No Lyds, there’s no reason to come over right now it’s some ridiculous hour okay?  I’ll be fine!"  She stressed only to be cut off by whatever was said on the phone.  "Fine," she breathed, "I’ll meet you downstairs."  And hung up, dropping the phone on her bed as she breathed out frustrated.  

 

Stiles paced around her room, attention often caught by the skin of her hand flashing at her as it caught her eye.  Eventually she began the trek down her stairs and she neared the front door exactly as a knock sounded.  She sighed but unlocked the door whereupon the red head on the other side barged into the house and locked the door directly behind her as she stood facing Stiles, her eyes scouring every inch of her twice.  Her eyes fell to Stiles’ left arm both times before continuing on.  

 

"So, we need to talk."

 

Stiles snorted at the obvious words but otherwise remained silent for a moment, taking the other girl in.  "What happened tonight?"

 

Lydia shook her head slowly.  "I don’t know.  I woke up a while ago and felt that I needed to drive somewhere so I got in my car and I found myself driving towards the preserve but then I felt this...build up in my chest.  This scream perched in my throat and suddenly I just couldn’t hold it in any longer and it just burst out of me.  But it wasn’t normal.  I could hear you.  I could hear you screaming, Stiles...like you were standing right next to me, screaming in sync with me.  And then I knew I needed to be here.  I needed to see you."

 

She looked at Stiles intently, no doubt waiting for her side of the story.  "I was here sleeping.  Having a nightmare more like but you get the picture.  I...I don’t know what happened.  One moment I was stuck in my nightmare and the next I was awake and screaming and there was this burning sensation in my arm and I rushed to the bathroom and I saw this slowly bubble up from my skin."  She thrust her arm towards Lydia who took it carefully and began to examine the figure from several angles.  

 

A gasp escaped Lydia’s lips and she looked up towards Stiles, her grip visibly tightening as she stared into the other’s eyes.  "Don’t you recognize this?  It’s what I had been drawing a month ago.  It’s the Nemeton, Stiles.  Why did the image of the Nemeton suddenly appear on your skin?  And why did we both scream?  Why at the same time?"

 

Stiles looked into Lydia’s eyes, her jaw set, "We need to see Deaton.  Now."

 

The room with it’s dim light and the two women was left behind in the swirl of new memories.  

 

After the swirling had subsided, the group once more found themselves in Deaton’s examination room.  The three figures of Deaton, Stiles, and Lydia were circled around the table.  Deaton appeared to be taking in everything that Lydia and Stiles had revealed to him.  After a short silence he steps closer to the table and asks to see Stiles’ left arm.  After holding her arm out, Deaton takes it in his grasp and begins to examine it silently, his face devoid of emotion until he goes slightly grey around the edges, his jaw slackened.  

 

Stiles and Lydia who had been paying rapt attention to Deaton and his reactions demanded at the same moment to know what his reaction was for.

 

Without removing his hands nor attention from Stiles’ arm, he breathed out, "It’s impossible."

 

Before any of the two present could make a further demand for information, Deaton began speaking.  "A nemeton is a beacon of magic.  There is perhaps nothing that has such pure magic in the world other than the ley lines from legend, or as you learned about them, telluric currents.  The Nemeton is an old magical receptacle.  It has a nearly unlimited source of magic.  When the Hale family and pack settled on the land here in Beacon Hills all of those generations ago, their ancestors bonded with the Nemeton and by extension, the land itself.  As the Hale Pack continued to live and defend their land, their bond with both the land and the Nemeton grew stronger.  The tree was eventually felled and what is currently resting in the woods of the preserve is all that is left of that once great power.  Ms. Blake was able to use the residual power and attempted to turn the power of the Nemeton to her side."  He paused to glance meaningfully into Stiles’ eyes, unaware of his rapt, invisible audience.  "While the Nemeton is felled and her magic diminished, she still holds a great power.  The Darach’s sacrifices--dark as they were--were accepted and used to further the Nemeton’s power.  And the sacrifices yourself, Ms. Argent, and Mr. McCall did provided more power to the Nemeton."

 

He released Stiles’ arm and leaned back towards his side of the table.  "The Nemeton has been dying for quite a long time--ever since it was cut down.  With the recent activities lately, I have sensed that it has been attempting to rebuild itself.  It is lacking the amount of magic it would need to do so yet it’s ability as a beacon has been reawakened--like I warned you three before you became the surrogate sacrifices.  I told you months ago before we began your training that I believed you to be a spark.  Sparks have quite a bit of magical ability.  More than a druid anyway due to the fact that their magic lives in their belief.  I did not reveal the whole truth to you then, however."

 

Stiles cut in, her voice quiet and sharp, "What do you mean you didn’t tell me everything?"

 

Derek watched Lydia as she began to slowly circle towards Stiles, moving slightly away from Deaton.  "You are more powerful than a typical spark would be.  I thought that perhaps your sacrifice to the Nemeton had gifted you more magic temporarily and that it would eventually fade.  The marking that has appeared on your arm tonight has derailed my theory."

 

"How so?"  Lydia’s tone is inquisitive, curious.

 

"That marking is one I have never seen before but I have heard legend of.  It was a myth...a fairy tale told between magic users for millennia.  As you can probably piece together, a Nemeton always has a guardian. Previously it was the Hales and in both their death and absence, I took over as a temporary guardian."  He shifted. "It would appear that the Nemeton itself has chosen a new guardian.  It has chosen you Ms. Stilinski.  It must have tested you and your magic through your sacrifice.  I suspect that is why you were the last to awaken after Ms. Argent and Mr. McCall.  It would also explain why your eyes were glowing and your full magical abilities awoke at that time."

 

"What aren’t you telling me, Deaton?"  Stiles growled. "What am I then?"

 

"You are something that should not exist, Ms. Stilinski.  The amount of power that you are generating and are even capable of using should belong only to magical beacons.  You appear to share a connection--a bond with the Nemeton _that_ is something I have never seen before.  The marking on your arm was placed there by the bond you share.  It shows you as the guardian of the Nemeton.  It shows all who would know what to look for that you have immense power, that you are a force to be reckoned with."  He leans forward, his eyes alive in a way Derek had never seen before.  "I caution you Ms. Stilinski.  This is not something to be taken lightly.  That tattoo on your arm marks you.  You will never be safe.  You will always be hunted by those seeking power.  By anyone who would seek to steal the power from the Nemeton or to take over the Hale land."

 

Stiles flinched slightly and then her face hardened.  She looked almost exactly like the version of herself that Derek had become familiar with.  "How do I get rid of it?"

 

"I am afraid that you cannot.  You were chosen by the Nemeton itself."

 

"And if I don’t want it?  I have nothing but indifference, possibly even contempt, for that tree in the woods."

 

"You do not unde--"  

 

Deaton was cut off by Stiles, her eyes beginning to flash.  "I understand perfectly well Deaton.  That tree might have been this ‘beacon’ of power and goodness back in the day but the only time I’ve heard this tree mentioned lately is when it’s roots are covered in _blood_.  When my father and my friends were sitting beneath it waiting to be crushed to death, to be a sacrifice.  So I’m sorry if I’m not too keyed up and all too ready to jump to it’s defense.  No matter what it’s decided when it slapped this...this brand on me."  Stiles was standing, her back straight, eyes flashing.  

 

"Be that as it may, Ms. Stilinski, I am afraid that you have little choice in the matter."  Deaton was unflappable in his delivery, his face blank even in the face of Stiles’ furious expression.

 

"Stiles," Lydia whispered, making her way closer to her to grasp onto her left wrist.  "Stiles we should go now.  Come on."  

 

Derek watched as Stiles allowed herself to be pulled from the room and the world shifted in colors and memories sending the pack on their way again.  

 

"I always was quite disappointed that Stiles never lashed out.  She has so many moments when it would be completely justifiable but she just...keeps pushing her urges down.  It’s no wonder I’m able to have such leeway later."  The voice of the Nogitsune was like nails down a chalk board after so much silence from her before this moment.

 

"What do you mean?"  Robert was the only one brave enough to ask apparently.  Derek had almost forgotten his father was in this space of memory with him and the rest of his family with how quiet he had been.  

 

"You’ll see soon enough."  Came the cryptic reply.  "Also, not to sound like too much of a ‘diva’," drawled the Nogitsune, "But we’ll be skipping around less now.  Why should I deprive you all of seeing Stiles and my courtship?’

 

"I hate to see what you consider a courtship."  Peter sounded disgusted and Derek turned to see a sneer on his face.

 

The Nogitsune only smiled beatifically.  "Now there’s no need to throw stones, Peter.  Don’t worry.  We won’t skip over _you_ either."  

 

Peter paled under his usually tan skin at the sugary sweet tone and the threat it implied.  

 

The next time their vision cleared Derek looked towards the group of five assembled around three motorcycles, well, two motorcycles and a dirt bike, if he’s being honest.  The sound slowly filtered in.  

 

"Derek needs more werewolves  and we need an Alpha.  It only makes sense that we combine our forces.  Can you talk to Derek for us?"  The twin, Aiden, had spoken.

 

Stiles released a sarcastic laugh.  "Yeah.  Absolutely not.  That’s hilarious though."

 

Scott stepped in between the stare off between the two.  "Why would I say yes?  Why would I recommend to Derek that we accept you?  After everything that’s happened?"

 

Aiden once more.  "We know a lot of stuff happened.  We know what we did was wrong but look at what we’d add.  We’d add strength. We’d make him more powerful. There’s no reason to say no."

 

At this Isaac stepped up next to Stiles.  "I can think of one. Like the two of you holding Derek’s claws while Kali impaled Boyd."  Derek flinched at the reminder of his future self’s messed up past.  "In fact, I don’t know why we’re not impaling them right now." Isaac added as he glanced around at Scott and Stiles.

 

Aiden stepped up even closer, his eyes flashing blue.  "You want to try?"

 

"I suggest," Stiles drawled, her eyes flashing gold in response, "That you take a step back.  Right now.  And you too Baby Beta."

 

The two stepped back from one another, both their eyes returning to their natural hues.  

 

"Don’t call me that."  Isaac growled out.

 

"Aww sounds just like the Sourwolf.  PapaWolf must be so proud."

 

Isaac grumbled while Scott shook his head exasperatedly.  "Just leave it dude.  She’s gonna call you it no matter what."  He turned towards the twins.  "Sorry, but they don’t trust you. And neither do I."  And with that parting shot, the trio walked away, leaving the twins near their bikes.  

 

"Why did she save their younger selves if her past self couldn’t stand to be anywhere near them?"  

 

No one answered Laura’s question.  Derek had a feeling no one knew how to answer it.  And he also had a feeling that the Nogitsune would take no small amount of pleasure in giving her an answer that would bite.

 

The memories skipped forward and suddenly the high school was surrounded by cop and FBI cars.  The entire area appeared to be shut down and Derek and his family were standing invisibly watching the chaos unravel around them.

 

"They’re leaving."  Lydia’s voice broke through.  "Why are they leaving?"

 

"The cops?"  Scott questioned, which earned a deadpan expression from Stiles before she responded to Lydia.  "They must have cleared the building and grounds, which means he’s not here."

 

"Who?  What’re you guys--"

 

"He _has_ to be here.  That sound.  The buzzing I’ve been hearing all day?  It’s getting louder."

 

"How loud?"  Stiles nodded at the look Lydia gave her and raced off towards her father.   "Dad!  Dad!

 

Her father turns towards her shouts, "Yeah?"

 

"You can’t leave yet."

 

"We got an eyewitness that puts Barrow by the train station."

 

The man from before who kept pushing at Stiles was standing a ways from where Stiles and her father were currently standing and he opened his mouth attracting the Stilinskis’ attention.  "Let’s go, Stilinski."

 

"Gods, I hate that guy."  Stiles grabbed her dad’s arm before he could turn fully away.  "Whoa, whoa. Dad, please just Lydia said that he’s still here."

 

The Sheriff turned fully at that.  "Did she see him?"

 

Stiles backpedaled, twitching oddly.  "Not exactly. No. Well, not at all actually."  The Sheriff went to turn away but Stiles stopped him once more by jumping in front of him this time.  Derek could see Agent McCall getting frustrated as he stood waiting and he had no doubt that the Sheriff could as well.  "But she has a feeling. A _supernatural_ feeling."

 

"Lydia wasn’t on the chessboard, though, right?"   

 

"She is now."  

 

"Kanima?"

 

"Um, Banshee."  Stiles threw out, cringing slightly.

 

"Oh, God."  The Sheriff’s hands were covering his face now.  Derek saw McCall move forward towards the duo.

 

"I know. I know how it sounds. But basically it means that she can sense when someone’s close to death."  Stiles reassured.

 

Before the Sheriff could respond McCall stepped in.  "What seems to be the problem here Stilinski?"

 

Stiles responded before her father.  "Nothing McCall.  Just talking with my dad.  You got a problem with that?"

 

The agent looked quite annoyed with Stiles’ words.  "You’re impeding an investigation.  Your father and I have a lead we need to check out and you’re wasting time."

 

"Well I’m so sorry that you’re too inept on your own to follow your own leads."

 

"Stiles."  The Sheriff’s voice was full of censure despite the quiet tone of voice he used.  

 

"No, it’s alright, Stilinski.  Like father, like daughter, am I right?"  He drawled.  Shit eating grin in place before he walked away.  Derek noticed it was a good thing he had then or else he would have seen Stiles’ eyes flare up.  What McCall did not fail to notice was when he slipped and fell onto his ass in front of all the gathered students and agents.  

 

Derek’s family laughed beside him at the action and he definitely did not feel bad as the man turned red and began to clamber to his feet haphazardly as everyone around him attempted to hide their amusement at his predicament.  

 

"Stiles."  Her father huffed but Derek could see him fighting a smile.

 

"He shouldn’t insult you."  Stiles looked un-apologetically at her father, not even hiding her smirk.  

 

"Be that is it may, I can take care of myself kiddo.  I have to go now though.  I have to ride with McCall, check out this lead."  When Stiles went to protest while gesturing at Lydia he stepped towards her, "Look, I’m not saying I don’t believe, but right now, I’m going with eyewitness over Banshee. We’re leaving a few deputies here. The school’s on lockdown till 3. Nobody comes in, nobody goes out.  That’s the best I’ve got right now. That’s the best I can give you, Stiles."

 

The memories fast forwarded and deposited the group in Stiles’ room.  On two of the walls were photographs and printed articles pinned and connected by various colors of strings.  Lydia was lying on Stiles’ bed fiddling with the strings while Stiles was pacing in front of the pinned materials.

 

Before anyone from Derek’s family could voice their confusion, Lydia beat them to it.  "What do all the colors mean?"

 

"Oh.  Just different stages of the investigation.  So green is solved, yellow is determined and blue is honestly just pretty."

 

"And red?"  Lydia asked, holding up the string while twirling a loose piece around her finger.

 

"Unsolved."

 

She and Derek’s family looked around taking in the room as a whole.  "You only have red on the board."

 

"Yes, I’m aware. Thank you."

 

"Did you get detention for pulling the alarm?"  Lydia asked suddenly.

 

"Yep. Every day this week. It’s okay, though. We were onto something."  Stiles was answering but it was obvious her attention was on the papers before her as she tried to puzzle something out.

 

"Even though we couldn’t find any proof of Barrow being there?"

 

Something in Lydia’s tone caused Stiles to turn suddenly and devote her whole attention to her companion. "Hey, Lydia. You’ve been right every time something like this has happened, okay? So don't start doubting yourself now."

 

Lydia shook her head, her fingers tightening around the string.  "No scent. No bomb. And I got you in trouble."

 

Stiles knelt down in front of her and gently began unwinding the string from Lydia’s finger which had begun to change hue.  "Okay, look. Barrow was there. All right? You knew it. You felt it. Okay? And look, if you wanted to, I’d go back to that school right now and search all night just to prove it."  Stiles’ head snapped up suddenly and looked directly into Lydia’s eyes.  "Get up. Get up now. We’re going to the school."

 

The two rushed over to the school tugging their invisible entourage with them.  The group followed the duo as they walked through the school corridors.   _How the hell are the doors still unlocked?_ Derek questioned.  Apparently he wasn’t the only one as the two found themselves in their science classroom opening the chemical closet which was supposed to be locked at all times.  

 

"So what are we looking for? That was supposed to be locked."

 

Stiles nodded slowly.  "Yeah. I know. Notice anything else?"

 

Lydia took in a breath and her nose wrinkled.  "It smells like chemicals."  She straightened and stared at Stiles.  "The pack wouldn’t have been able to catch Barrow’s scent."

 

Stiles was talking to herself.  "He was here, performing very minor surgery on himself."  She turned slightly towards Lydia with a small smile.  "You were right."

 

"Then why don’t I feel good about this?"

 

"Probably because he was here to kill somebody."

 

"But who?"   

 

"That’s what we gotta figure out. We could spread out, start looking for... anything."  The small pause and lengthening of her final word caught Derek’s attention.  Stiles was turned away from Lydia facing into the classroom, her gaze transfixed on the chalkboard.  "Lydia, what are those?"

 

On the board were a series of numbers listed vertically: 19 53 88.  Lydia turned at Stiles’ question and began walking closer, transfixed just like Stiles.  "Atomic numbers."

 

"Is it a formula?"

 

"Not really. 19's potassium. The first two make potassium iodide."  With that she takes the chalk and draws a capital ‘K’.  

 

"Potassium is K?"

 

Lydia’s voice is soft as though it was coming from far away.  "From kalium, the scientific neo-Latin name."  Beside the capital ‘K’ Lydia writes a lowercase ‘i’.

 

Stiles steps closer.  "What’s radium?"

 

"R.  And the final one, A."  She looks towards Stiles who was already looking at her, both their faces filling with dread.  Stiles is the one to voice their fear.   

 

"Kira."

 

The memories speed by once more.  The next thing any of them knew, Stiles and Lydia were kneeling over Scott who had just woken up in the middle of the street.  Stiles was shouting at Scott to wake up.  

 

Scott jumped up as soon as he woke.  "Barrow!  He took Kira!"

 

"We know. He was after her the whole time.  We found a note he left on a chalkboard at the school."  Stiles explained.

 

"We have to think of something. He's going to kill her"  Scott was pacing, his hands opening and closing agitatedly.  

 

"I knew he was there."  Lydia broke in.  "How did I know that?"

 

Stiles whirled towards her, expression intense.  "Because you heard the flies, right?"

 

Scott stepped closer to her now but Lydia begins to back away.  "What do you hear now?"

 

She turned away from the two and took small, halting steps away from them, her voice trembling and eyes becoming rimmed with silver.  "Nothing. I feel like I can do this. But I don’t know what to do. It’s like it’s on the tip of my tongue, and I don’t know how to trigger it. I just...I swear to God, it literally makes me want to scream."  Lydia’s voice had grown frustrated, her breaths heaving.

 

Stiles jumped in though immediately, stepping closer to her.  "Okay, then scream."  She stepped closer.  "Lydia, _scream_."

 

Without a second thought Lydia opened her mouth and released a shriek that shook the ground beneath their feet and set Scott to his knees with his hands covering his ears while Stiles remained standing, her face momentarily blank.

 

As soon as Lydia stopped screaming she started staring straight up at the nearest streetlight.  Her voice was absent as she spoke.  "It’s not flies. It’s electricity."

 

This appeared to shock Stiles out of her numbed state.  "Wait a second, Barrow was an electrical engineer. He worked at a power substation."

 

Scott turned towards her immediately.  "What substation?"

 

And the group was off--Stiles and Lydia in Stiles’ jeep and Scott on his dirt bike--towards a substation and what appeared to be a mass murderer.  Fantastic.  

 

They arrived and Scott ran in immediately.  Stiles following after grabbing her bat from behind the driver’s seat.  She told Lydia to stay because she only had the one bat and then she ran in after Scott leaving Lydia in her jeep.  The group followed in time to see sparks fly from the left which sent Stiles into a protective motion to protect her eyes only she didn’t make it there.  Suddenly the top of the bat not in her hands slammed to the ground and began to pull her body straight towards a fence.

 

Everything went black.

 

"What the hell just happened?"  Laura shouted.

 

"I would presume," Peter drawled, "that our Ms. Stilinski was knocked unconscious.”

 

Everyone turned towards the Nogitsune in askance but all she gifted them with was a cruel smirk which sent shivers down each of their spines.

 

The environment reformed into the Sheriff’s station where Stiles, Scott, Lydia, and Kira were seated and being interrogated by Agent McCall while the Sheriff looked on over his shoulder.

 

"So when did you get there?"

 

Stiles was the first to answer.  "At the same time."

 

"At the same time as who?" He questioned.

 

Scott jumped in this time.  "At the same time as me."

 

"By coincidence?"

 

"What do you mean coincidence?"  Stiles needled the man.

 

"That’s what I'm asking you. The two of you arrived at the same time. Was that coincidence?"

 

Scott was glaring at his father.  "Are you asking me?"

 

"I think he’s asking me." Stiles said adopting a confused visage.  

 

Rolling her eyes at the two’s antics, Lydia finally jumped in.  "I think he’s asking the both of you."

 

McCall appeared to regroup.  "Okay, let me answer the questions. Let me _ask_ the questions."  He shook his head briefly before continuing, "Just so I have this absolutely clear. Barrow was hiding in the chemistry closet at the school. Someone left him a coded message on the blackboard telling him to kill Kira. Then Barrow took Kira to a power substation and tied her up with the intent of electrocuting her, which blacked out the entire town when it backfired."

 

Stiles was nodding enthusiastically.  "Sounds about right."

 

"How did you know he’d take her to a power station?"

 

Stiles leveled the agent with a ‘duh’ expression.  "Well, ‘cause he was an electrical engineer. So where else would he take her?"

 

"That’s one hell of a deduction there, Stiles."  He was mocking and it escaped no one’s notice.

 

A shit eating grin spread across her lips as she looked the agent directly in the eyes.  "Yeah, what can I say? I take after my pops. He’s in law enforcement."   

 

At this the Sheriff began to laugh which he turned into a cough and grunt.  He was hiding his smile just behind his hand however which caused Stiles to wink at him.  "Stiles, just, uh...Just answer the man."

 

Rolling her eyes good naturedly, she fixed the frustrated agent with a small smile.  "We made a good guess."

 

Apparently deciding he wasn’t going to be getting much from Stiles he turned towards his son and Kira.  "What were the two of you doing?"

 

"Eating pizza." Came Scott’s reply.

 

"Eating sushi." Came Kira’s reply.

 

Scott jerked towards Kira while she did the same back to him.  He threw out suddenly, ‘Eating sushi.’ while Kira threw out her own answer of ‘Eating pizza’ before both finally decided on saying ‘Eating sushi _and_ pizza’.

 

Anyone looking could see that Stiles looked like she was about to start having a seizure from rolling her eyes so much.  It looked as though she wished she were anywhere but next to the two who could not seem to get their story straight.  Derek certainly couldn’t blame her.  

 

McCall turned towards the Sheriff.  "You believe this?"

 

The Sheriff shuffled forward slightly from where he was leaning against his desk.  "To be honest, I haven’t believed a word Stiles has said since she learned how to speak. That said,  I think these kids found themselves in the right place at the right time and that girl sitting there is very lucky for it."  He nodded at Kira.

 

The agent didn’t look convinced and he turned towards the girl in question.  "Kira, is that how you remember it?

 

Everyone in the room turns to look at her now and she eeks out a shrill, "Yes."  Before the agent can turn away, she asks,  "Could I get my phone back now?"

 

"Sorry, but no. Kira, a deputy is going to take you home. But we’ll need you to fill out some paperwork first."

 

The memories blurred once more.  Suddenly the pack was in the hallway of the high school again.  Stiles and Coach were talking but nothing began to filter in until Stiles dropped her keys.  She bent down to retrieve them but paused briefly before picking them up.  As she straightened with them in her hand, she focused intently on one key in particular.  "Hello.  Where did you come from?"

 

She was pulled from her contemplation as she caught sight of Scott making a beeline for Kira.  She grabbed ahold of him by his backpack and began to tug him away.  "No. No. Stop. Stop."

 

"What? I need to talk to her."  He attempted to resist but Stiles continued to pull him along.

 

"No, you need to remember someone left a coded message telling Barrow to kill her."

 

Scott broke free but stood by her continuing their conversation. "Which is why I need to talk to her.”

 

"Scott, no way. Until we figure out if she’s just another psychotic monster that's going to start murdering everybody, I vote against any and all interaction."

 

Scott appeared to not even take in what Stiles was saying, too intent on staring at the girl who they had saved.  "What if she’s like me?"

 

Stiles looked at him worryingly, "That girl walked through 1.21 jigawatts of _electricity_. She’s not like you."

 

The memories fast forwarded once more depositing the group outside the Sheriff’s station again.  Derek was noticing a problematic pattern but he kept this observation to himself.  Stiles was sitting in the driver’s seat while Scott and Kira were standing outside the door.  She hands Scott three key cards.  "Okay, this one will get you into all of the perimeter doors, this one into the evidence room, and this one’s for my father’s office."

 

"You didn’t steal these, did you?"  Derek’s mother made a strangled noise in the back of her throat at Scott’s question.  

 

Stiles looked affronted.  "No. I cloned them using the RFID emulator."

 

"Is that worse than stealing?" Scott looked worried as he glanced between Stiles and the cards in his hand.

 

"It’s smarter."  She replied with a smile.

 

Kira broke the small silence.  "Scott, can I ask you something?"

 

Stiles waved the two of them off while she resettled in her seat.  The group decided to stay beside Stiles rather than listen to the conversation the duo was having.  After a couple moments the two approached Stiles once more and when she saw them approaching she leaned closer to the open window.   "Okay. So, now almost everybody’s out dealing with the blackout. But there’s always somebody at the front desk. There’s dispatch and usually a night shifter or two. You guys are gonna use the service door entrance by the dumpster. Alright?"  She glanced between the two of them to make sure they were listening before she continued.  "Nobody uses it. Now, I’ll text you if anyone comes out. But, Scott, if you get caught, I can’t help you. My dad’s under investigation for an impeachment because of your dad, so, if anything happens I will run and leave you both for dead."  

 

Nervous laughter emitted from somewhere behind Derek but he was too focused on how serious Stiles looked as she delivered the ultimatum to Scott.   

 

Scott nodded understandingly.  "Got it. Thanks. Seriously, dude."

 

Stiles looked a little sorry as she took in their faces.  "I’d ask my dad, but you know…"

 

"No, I know. I get it."

 

"All right."  Stiles nodded, gesturing towards the door as she settled into the jeep more.  "Just, uh, hurry up.

 

Minutes passed, Derek wasn’t sure how many exactly but he watched as Stiles was playing with her keys and became fascinated once more by the new one that had made it’s way onto her key ring.  She was distracted from her observation by the sound of a car approaching.  Derek looked up and swore lightly as he noticed Agent McCall.  

 

Stiles swore as well and nearly fell out of her jeep.  "Oh shit I am totally going to regret this."  She races around the front end of her jeep and rushes towards the man attracting his attention and stopping his forward momentum.  

 

"What do you want, Stiles?"

 

"Oh, jeez!"  Stiles began to stammer and then started to spew out words.  “I was just... I was thinking on the case. I was thinking I should clue you in on my thinking."  She took a gasping breath.  "Here’s my thinking. I was thinking this... I was thinking that Barrow, right... I was thinking that Barrow received the information about who to kill at the school, right, you know that? So I was thinking maybe the person who gave him that information, check this out, might actually be someone at the school. And that’s, uh, my thinking."  She finished, her hands doing a little shimmy.

 

"Hmm."  Was her only response as a beeping sound rang out from McCall’s phone.  McCall surprised at the very least Stiles and Derek as he responded, "You’re right."

 

"I am?"  Stiles’ expression was one of disbelief.

 

A small smile.  "Yep. We, uh... We started looking for links between Barrow, faculty and students last night. "

 

"So you already know that stuff then?"

 

A hum again to her query.

 

"You already thought of that."

 

"Your dad did."

 

Stiles smiled slightly.  "Oh."

 

"His _one useful_ suggestion."  McCall’s tone had Stiles’ hackles raise and if that weren’t enough, a smirk made its way upon his lips.

 

Stiles stepped towards him, her face shuttered, eyes blazing her normal whiskey color.  Despite the lack of magic visible, Derek felt the hair on the back of his neck and along his arms raise.  "You know, this attitude that you have toward my dad? You can dress it up to all the professional disapproval that you want. But I know the _real_ reason why you don’t like him."  Stiles’ tone was smooth, deadly.   

 

The man in front of her only chuckles softly at her, clearly having no survival instincts.  "Is that so?"  He drawled.

 

"Yeah."  Stiles continued, stepping even closer to him.  "Because he knows something that you don't want him to know. And guess what."  She steps right into his space, her voice lowering as she looks him dead in the eyes.  "I know it, too."

 

The agent is no longer amused, no longer needling at Stiles.  Instead, he gulps loudly, his lips quivering as he takes a stuttering half-step backwards.  "Go home, Stiles. There’s a... There’s a curfew."

 

Stiles walked backwards and turned on her heel dismissing the man and walking out of the Sheriff’s station.  The trio met up and had a short conversation which ended when Stiles asked the two, "You guys wanna go to a party?"

 

Derek and his family are whisked away.  A deep chuckle resounding amongst the swirls of darkness and colors of Stiles’ memories.  "There’s the girl I came for."

 

Derek wasn’t sure who growled at the Nogitsune but he felt that she was only enjoying herself with the attention.  

 

The trio were walking up the stairs of Derek’s older self’s building when Stiles began to tell Scott about the new key on her key ring.  "It just showed up there on my key ring this morning. I asked my dad if he put it there but he said he didn’t know anything about it."

 

Stiles looked worried but Scott just dismissed it by saying, "It’s just a key, right?"

 

"Yeah."  She replied, apparently put out.  The trio entered Derek’s loft and the lights were out but the party was raging, no doubt there was a generator somewhere.  There were neon flashing lights everywhere, bodies undulating under the strobing black light and a DJ set up in the corner blasting music.  "But it’s not mine. And I don’t know how it got there or what it’s for.”

 

"You want to leave so we can figure it out?"  Scott offered before Stiles was grabbed out of nowhere and kissed by a random girl.  She leaves a bright orange lip stain on her cheek and disappears into the crowd.  

 

"Caitlin?"  Stiles’ voice was confused as she looked at Scott but he had already shuffled away at some point and was staring between where Kira had wound up and where Isaac and Allison were painting each other’s bodies in glow in the dark paint.  She rolled her eyes and began to search for the girl who had kissed her.

 

"Hey!"  Stiles shouted when she found the girl.  She was dressed in some oddly striped outfit that glowed under the blacklights.  Derek recognized her as one of the girlfriend’s of the sacrifices earlier despite her neon makeup and the bright neon orange bob wig she was wearing which matched her lipstick.

 

"Hey!"  She shouted back.  "I kissed you!"

 

"Yeah!  I know.  Why though?"

 

Caitlin looked confused.  "Why not?  Aren’t you going to ask who I am?"

 

Stiles shook her head.  "No.  I know who you are.  Caitlin.  Are you okay?  After everything with your girlfriend I-"

 

"Oh yeah. She’s dead."  Stiles looked out of her depth for a response but she was saved as Caitlin herself provided one.  "I’m really drunk.  Do you have a bottle opener?"

 

Looking uncomfortable at the request to help the other girl consume more alcohol, Stiles shifted slightly before replying in the positive.  

 

Caitlin thrust her unopened beer bottle in Stiles’ face.  "Can you open this?"

 

"Um sure."  Stiles began to juggle her keys and the bottle when Caitlin suddenly pointed to the key.  "Ooh that key has phosphors on it!"

 

Stiles froze in her motions and pivoted towards Caitlin.  When she made a beckoning motion Stiles finished opening the beer and gave it to her.  "What are phosphors?"

 

"Oh they’re any substance that luminesces.  It’s in your teeth and your fingernails.  Laundry detergent.  Ooh it’s also in this!"  She grabbed the swinging glow stick on her chest to shove it into Stiles’ face.  "It reacts to UV light.  That’s why it glows."

 

"How would I get phosphors on my key?"  Stiles pushed.

 

"Have you been handling chemicals lately?"

 

Stiles began to shake her head, "No.  No, I don’t think I…"

 

Caitlin leaned in to try to kiss Stiles, her beer tipping sideways.  "Woah, okay then!"  Stiles began to lean away while still holding a swaying Caitlin up.  "I think you’re wonderful but I don’t think we should be doing this.  You’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly right now.  Do you want me to call a ride for you?"

 

Sitting back slightly, Caitlin shakes her head no and mentions some friends who came with her.  Stiles helps Caitlin over to them, extracts a promise that they’ll get her home and she flees future Derek’s apartment without telling anyone where she is going.  

 

Derek and his family follow after her wondering what exactly set Stiles off as she burns rubber to get to the high school, her breathing accelerating the closer they got.  Stiles slammed to a halt in the parking lot and jumped out of the car to rush around to a door which was, yet again, open and she hurried along the halls back into the science classroom with the chemical closet her and Lydia had been in only a couple days ago.  

 

The pack watched in silence, the Nogitsune in glee, as Stiles fisted the keys and walked towards the chemical closet.  She tried the doorknob and found it locked but when she extended the new key and turned it, she heard a click and the knob turned and opened.  Stiles’ panic appeared to rise as she turned away from the door and towards the blackboard which still had Kira’s name written out in the numbers of the periodic elements.  She walked closer, her right hand exchanging the keys for the stick of chalk Lydia had left there last time.  She raised a shaking hand and duplicated the numbers on the left and when she stepped back, her breathing stopped as she noticed that the numbers matched exactly.  And everything went black.  Soundless.

 

The pack existed in a black nothingness for a few moments, confused at the lack of memories swirling by until eventually sounds and the colors of memories began to trickle in and swirl by them once more.  

 

Suddenly the group was watching Scott and Stiles standing by her jeep together downloading each other on what had happened last night at the party.  Scott told Stiles that Derek, Isaac, Ethan, Lydia, and Aiden had all been attacked by some ninja warriors that had come out of nowhere.  And that Chris was attacked when he went to look for information.  He described them as demons of darkness seeking out something dark that needed to be rid from the world.  He shared that each person who had been attacked found themselves with some kind of backwards five behind their left ear.  Stiles listened appearing to take it all in before Scott asks her where she disappeared to.  At this Stiles tells Scott about her discovery and leads him to the classroom to show him the key and the blackboard but once they get there Stiles and Derek’s pack see that the blackboard has been wiped clean and that the key that had once adorned her key ring is suddenly missing.  

 

"I had it this morning.  I swear to the gods, I had it here this morning.  I checked."  Stiles started to frantically go through her key ring and start over once she didn’t find it there.  

 

"The key you were talking about this morning?"  Scott questioned, his expression half worried, half incredulous as he watched Stiles’ actions.  Derek wanted to hit him upside the head.

 

Stiles jumped on this lifeline.  "Yeah!  I showed it to you right!  Didn’t I show it to you?"

 

"No, you just told me about it.  You never showed it to me."

 

Stiles was running her right hand through her hair, yanking at the ends as she stared down at the keys clenched in her left.  "I was here a couple of hours ago. And the message left to Barrow spelling Kira’s name was right there on the board in my handwriting and I had the key to the chemistry closet. I swear it was all here a couple of hours ago."

 

"So you unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide in it from the cops and then you wrote him a message to kill Kira?"  Scott asked, dubious.

 

Stiles nodded frantically.  "I know how it sounds but look at this."  She pulls out a crumpled and folded piece of paper from her back left pocket and thrusts it towards him.  "This is the news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this? See what he did? He put nuts, bolts and screws. And then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?"

 

Scott swallowed.  "Coach."

 

Stiles was frantic, her eyes wide as she looked at her companion.  "The joke we played on Coach. That was my idea. You remember? That was _my_ idea. That’s no coincidence. It can’t be."

 

Scott folded the paper but held onto it instead of giving it back to Stiles.   "I don’t want to sound like I’m trying to tell you that you’re wrong. But I don’t think you’re trying to kill people either."

 

Peter’s voice broke into the moment, tone unamused.  "I can now see why Stiles was so put out with my future self in regards to Scott.  He _is_ an idiot."

 

"It was here. It was all here."  Stiles keeps mumbling to herself.

 

"Dude, are you feeling okay? You’re looking really tired."

 

Stiles shakes herself but her attention is still not within the room itself.  "Yeah, I’m fine. I just haven’t been sleeping really.”   

 

"Why don’t you go home? Take a sick day or something."  Scott suggested.

 

Memories fast forwarded as Stiles left the school in a daze, drove to the hospital and wandered in where she ran into Ms. McCall and asked to see her usual doctor.  

 

"Dr. Gardner’s not back until next week. Do you want to try waiting for one of the urgent care doctors or... Stiles."  Ms. McCall’s worried tone grabs Stiles’ attention back towards her.  "Are you alright?"  She asked as she made her way around the nurse’s station.

 

Stiles was shaking and was close to tears and she responded tremulously, "I don’t know. I guess I... guess not really."

 

Ms. McCall shuffled closer to Stiles, her arms raised slightly as though she was weary of spooking a wild animal.  "Alright, kiddo. Alright. Come with me. It’s okay."

 

Stiles was guided into an empty hospital room where she proceeded to clamber atop the bed when directed.  As soon as Ms. McCall pulled out a small notepad with a pen and nodded towards Stiles, she began.  "Blackouts. But not for that long. And sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid. Um, I’m also having some really bad anxiety."   _That explained the black points that they were stranded in_ , Derek thought grimly.

 

"Panic attacks?"

 

Stiles nodded jerkily.  "Yeah, a couple. Oh, and I temporarily lost the ability to read. But that might have had more to do with the giant magic tree and a whole human sacrifice thing."  Her joke, as well as the laugh she forced out fell flat in the stale hospital air between them.

 

"I recall something vaguely about that, yes."  Ms. McCall responded wryly.  "How many hours of sleep are you getting?"

 

Stiles counted her fingers multiple times before looking up.  "Eight."

 

"A night?"

 

"In the last three days. Yeah, definitely eight."  She revealed which left a worried expression on Ms. McCall’s face as she rallied herself to continue with her questions.

 

"Been feeling irritable?"

 

A nod.  "Yeah."  She paused.  "Possibly to the point of homicide."

 

"Inability to focus?"

 

"No, the Adderall’s not working"

 

"Impulsive behavior?"

 

Stiles let loose a wild chuckle.  "More than my usual? Hard to tell."

 

"Vivid dreams during the day?"

 

Stiles sat up, frustrated twitching taking over her body as she faced Ms. McCall properly.  "Okay, basically all of the above. Do you know what this is?"

 

"I think so." Ms. McCall said as she turned towards a tray and lifted up a needle before she stepped up towards Stiles.

 

"Uh, what’s that?"

 

"Do you trust me?"

 

"When you’re not holding a needle."

 

Ms. McCall lifts up the right sleeve of Stiles’ shirt and explains to her as she administers the shot.  "It’s Midazolam. A sedative."

 

Stiles looked incredulously at her. "Why’d you give me a sedative?"

 

Ms. McCall began maneuvering Stiles to where she was laying in the bed and began to tuck her in.  "Because you, Stiles, are one profoundly sleep-deprived young woman. You need rest and you need it now."

 

"Okay, how long’s it take to...oh."  Stiles’ eyes were already drooping, her movements falling into an unnatural stillness.

 

"Not long at all. Get some rest."  Ms. McCall promised, a small smile on her lips.

 

"Thanks, Mom."  Stiles smiled and then she was gone.  And so were her invisible companions.  

 

The next thing the group knows is that Stiles is waking up and the room is darker--darker than a hospital room should be.  They watch Stiles clamber out of bed, her face just as confused as theirs undoubtedly were.  She begins walking down an empty corridor until she wanders into an empty surgery theatre.  

 

Suddenly in front of her appear a group of the creatures covered in black wearing masks--the creatures Scott had described to her.  Derek can hear himself and his pack growl threateningly as the creatures step towards Stiles.  One reaches up a gloved hand towards her neck and suddenly Stiles’ left hand snatches the creature’s out of the air.  Stiles looked surprised, astonished even as her hand moved so quickly and she looked at the creature fearfully until everything went black once more--for her and her invisible visitors.

 

"What the hell just happened?"  Peter sounded angry.  His only response a cackle in the blackness.  

 

The group finds themselves in the dark again.  A new darkness. There are slats of light falling to the ground bathing everything is half shadows.  The pack looks around when they see a brighter flash of light and they see Stiles on her phone talking to someone, Scott apparently.  She’s on the ground and she isn’t moving.  She is shivering and frightened.

 

They listen to the two sides of the conversation confused as to what was happening but feeling trepidation as they felt their dark companion’s glee rising.  

 

"Scott,"  She whispered.  "I don’t...I don’t know where I am.  I don’t know how I got here.  I think I was sleepwalking."

 

Derek feels like his gut was punched.  He has never heard Stiles sound afraid.  While it’s true that they hadn’t known each other long, it’s not hard to imagine that Stiles wasn’t scared easily.  The fact that she was displaying it so prevalently had to be a bad sign.

 

> "Okay, um can you see anything?  Just tell me what you see."

 

"It’s so dark.  It’s hard to see.  I think there’s something wrong with m--"

 

Stiles cried out slightly as the call disconnected and refused to connect once more.  Minutes or seconds could have passed but Derek wouldn’t have been able to tell you which and he doubted Stiles could either.  

 

Finally the call connected again.

 

> "Stiles!"

 

"Scott, I don’t think I can get out of here.  I can’t move."

 

> "Where are you?"

 

The pack watched Stiles uselessly as she tried to look around her, her eyes becoming rimmed with silver the longer she looked around.  "I don’t know.  I don’t know.  It’s too dark.  I can’t see much and something’s wrong with my leg.  It’s stuck on something and I think...I think it’s bleeding."

 

At this Derek and his family swarm around Stiles trying to look at her leg but it’s shrouded in darkness that even they can’t see through.  

 

> "How bad? Stiles, how bad is it? Stiles, are you there? Can you hear me?"

 

"Ah, there's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible. It’s brutal. My eyes are watering."

 

> "Okay, listen. I’m calling your dad."

 

Stiles jerked up at that eliciting a small cry of pain.  "No!  No, no, no, don’t."  She begged.  

 

> "But your dad."

 

"Don’t. Just please don’t call him. Promise you won’t. He already worries about me too much. Scott, please."

 

> But what if I can’t find you? Stiles, I can’t make a promise like that."

 

Stiles is shaking her head unseen by the one person she is begging.  "No, no, no, just please."  Stiles starts to sniffle, her silver tears silently beginning to slide down her face.  "Please, don’t call him. Come find me. You can do it. He doesn’t have to know. Scott, you can find me."

 

> "I don’t know if I can do this."

 

There’s more sniffling and then Stiles looks at her phone,  "Oh, I gotta call you back. I have to turn the phone off."

 

> "What? No, hey, wait--"

"I’m gonna call you back."

 

> "Hold on, Stiles.  Wait.  Hold on, man."

The call disconnects once more.  Silence and sniffling rising together.

 

Minutes pass and Stiles receives a call from Scott again.

 

> "Hey, Stiles!"

 

"Did you call him?  Did you call my dad?"  Stiles’ voice is frantic.  

 

> "No. Just Isaac. We’re coming to find you. Can you figure out where you are? Try to find something and tell us where to look."

 

Stiles glances around once more.  "It’s a basement. I think... I think I’m in some kind of basement."

 

> "In a house?"

 

"No. It looks bigger. Like industrial. I think there’s a furnace. But it’s cold."  Stiles shivered violently.  "It’s freezing down here. I gotta turn the... I gotta turn the phone off. It’s going to die."

 

> "Wait, wait, wait. What else is there? What do you see?"

 

"The phone’s dying."  A noise rings out and Stiles freezes momentarily and then begins talking in a whisper.  "I can’t talk. I have to go."

 

> "Please Stiles, why are you whispering?"

 

"Because I think there’s someone in here with me."  Stiles’ announcement heralds the end of her call and sets Derek’s pack on edge as they begin to scan the room Stiles is trapped in.  

 

Minutes passed in darkness with only Stiles’ sniffling and shivers breaking the silence.  The pack had searched as much as they could but they could find no evidence that someone was inside the room with Stiles.

 

Derek knew that Stiles was freezing.  He could feel the faint tinge of it caressing his skin.  He can’t imagine how cold she would be in just her overlong shirt and thin pajama pants.  Shivers wracked her form as she fumbled with her phone.  She let out a quiet cheer as she got some kind of flashlight on her phone to turn on.  With it she craned the view down finally eliminating the darkness and a pain filled moan now filled the air as everyone present saw that Stiles’ left leg was stuck in the jaws of a bear trap.  Her leg was immobile and covered in blood.  Stiles’ breaths became laboured, her jaw tightening.

 

She jerked and let out a cry when a noise came from the other side of the room which caused her to move her leg, and with it, the trap around it.  "Who’s there?  I know you’re there!  I can hear you!"  Her words were thrown out into the darkness.  The pack could sense nothing there.

 

The random sound morphed into a scraping noise and it continued to ring out so Stiles moved the light around the room. With the new light, everyone could see the room better.  There were metal beams supporting the roof and a large industrial boiler sat directly on the wall opposite to where Stiles was lying. When she shone her light behind it, Stiles caught a glimpse of a shadowed figure.  It looked like a man in a leather bomber jacket squatting with his back towards her. Looking closer, the pack could see that he was where the scraping noise was originating from.  He was drawing something on the wall behind the boiler.

 

"Who are you?"

 

She received no response. In lieu of one, the strange man dropped the piece of chalk he had been drawing with onto the ground.  When he had released it, it had been revealed that his fingers were heavily bandaged until there was no skin showing at all.  Stiles followed the progression of the chalk piece which had rolled along the concrete floor towards her.  After it came to a stop she raised the light towards the strange man again but he was gone. All that he had left behind was the symbol he had drawn: a backwards 5.  The same one Scott had told Stiles about.

 

"Self." She breathed to herself.  As soon as the word passed her lips, some kind of breeze swept through the room which rustled the leaves on the floor and turned the symbol into a cloud of dust that vanished, leaving no trace of it’s existence.

 

When this happened, Stiles began to groan and tug at the trap and the chain to which it was attached.  As she struggled against the chain, the sounds of another person’s breathing began to surface.  Stiles breathed out and attempted to wipe her face as she called out, "Who’s there?"  Looking around, Stiles spotted a shadow that looked exactly like the mysterious figure from earlier.  Derek didn’t like this one bit.  And he could tell that none of his family did either.  "Who are you?"

 

The man in the shadows finally answered back.  His voice deep and rasping, "Not who are _you_ , Stiles but who are _we_?"

 

Stiles groaned and continued to struggle with the chain and it’s trap.

 

"It’s getting colder, Stiles." The man paused, stepping closer.  "Did you notice that we’ve stopped shivering? Do you know why that’s a bad sign?"  The man’s tone was conversational, rhythmic.  Still threatening.  

 

Derek had noticed that Stiles had indeed stopped shaking and he doubted that it had escaped her notice.  "It’s the body trying to conserve energy." Stiles responded rotely.  "It was my fifth grade science report."

 

"Hypothermia." The man hissed, nodding slightly.  "Our speech is starting to _thicken._ Then comes fatigue. Confusion." He pushed, coming a half step closer.  Derek noticed he was circling around her like she was prey.  His hackles raised and he felt his eyes flash in response.  He knew nothing he nor his family did would matter in this moment.  In this collection of memories but damn it it he didn’t feel the need to react.  "We're going to _die_ if we don’t get out of here."

 

"Stop saying that! Stop saying we!"  Stiles shouted at the figure, tears falling even more quickly than earlier.  

 

"We’re just trying to keep you from freezing to death." The being continued, ignoring her scream for him to stop. "You better get up, Stiles."  Another circle around her.  This time close enough for him and his family to see.  There were several gasps as they took in the creature.  He was tall, over six feet and bandaged seemingly from head to toe.  He was dressed in tan colors but his face is what was the most terrifying.  It was covered in thick bandages, no flesh visible at all, no eyes peeking out either--only a row of metal, serrated teeth that flashed in the mixture of darkness and light.

 

"How?" Stiles was getting angry.  "There's a _freaking steel-jawed_ _trap_ on my leg!" She shouted at the figure as he continued to circle her.

 

The figure didn’t even pause.  "Is there?"

 

The pack froze and stared down at Stiles as she did the same.  They watched her let out a sob as she aimed her light down onto her leg.  Everyone saw the trap still there. "Notice something different?" He crooned. "It was on your right leg before, wasn’t it?"

 

Derek shook his head in denial.  No.  He clearly remembers the bear trap being on Stiles’ left leg and only her left leg.  When he looks back for confirmation from his family he finds them just as confused as him.  He turns forward when he hears Stiles’ whispered, ‘no’.  

 

"Are you sure?"  The man asked again.

 

Stiles looked at him and then glanced back down at the leg and saw that the trap was on her right leg instead.  She began to shake. "What is this? What are you doing?"

 

"We’re trying to save you, Stiles. We’re trying to _save_ your life."  Was all he responded.  

 

Everyone could see that Stiles was deteriorating fast.  They watched her fight to keep her eyes open and alert on the stranger circling her.  The stranger only stopped to begin working on drawing another backwards five on a different wall.

 

"You don’t understand, do you?" He asked.  "It’s a riddle. Do you know any riddles, Stiles?"

 

Stiles’ answer coming out stilted.  "A few."

 

"What gets bigger the more you take away?" He asked without either looking at her or stopping his ministrations.

 

"A hole."

 

"What gets wetter the more it dries?"  The Nogitsune’s voice joins in from behind Derek, her tone threatening and all wrong in Stiles’ voice as she melds with the creature taunting the freezing girl.

 

"A towel."

 

"When is a door not a door?"

 

Stiles jumped at the remembered riddle.  "When it's ajar."

 

The Nogitsune steps around the frozen members of the pack to approach Stiles who was still lying there on the ground as both it and the stranger began to hiss out their next volley.  "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"

 

Stiles looked confused."I don’t--" A shiver erupted through her body, disrupting her speech.

 

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it.  What is it, Stiles?"  He taunted.

 

"I don’t...I don’t know." She bit out, her breaths seizing.

 

The pack could do nothing but watch in horror as everything began to click together.  The Nogitsune and the man were one and the same.  They continued to hiss at Stiles, repeating the same thing over and over again even as Stiles continued to cry out that she didn’t know.  

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it." They repeated again and again. Now getting louder and angrier at each lack of response from Stiles.

 

They watched unable to interfere as the man now revealed to be the Nogitsune stomped his way to Stiles and switched from English to Japanese.  Despite the new language, everyone could tell what he was asking Stiles.  What he kept repeating over and over as the Nogitsune wearing Stiles’ face watched from where the man had previously stood.  Watched until the man repeated the phrase so much that he was now yelling it at her.  Fed up with her lack of positive response, the man opened his metal jaw and roared in her face and he stepped closer, within touching distance of her.  Every wolf alongside Derek reacted defensively, their claws unsheathing and growls rumbling through their chests, their eyes flashing in warning.  

 

"No! No! No! No!" Stiles shouted as she tried to desperately crawl backwards, dragging her dead leg along with her. The Nogitsune took hold of the chain connected to the trap on her leg, and started to yank her back towards him. "No, wait!" She screamed, thick tears falling fast now.  The man paid no attention to her pleas, her cries, nor her struggles.  He only continued to yank the chain.

 

There were roars around Derek and he noticed he himself had released one and he watched as Laura ran past him and attempted to throw the man from the chain but her claws passed right through him.  And when she went to grasp Stiles herself to pull her away, her touch did nothing.  

 

"It’s not going to work."  The being bearing Stiles’ visage taunted.  "You’re only grasping at ghosts.  Just enjoy the show."

 

Derek wished he could clobber her, claw into her until she was left broken and bleeding, crying out like Stiles was but Stiles’ new screams tore at his heart and had him turning back so fast he almost broke his neck.  

 

"No!  Wait!  Someone help me!  Please!  Wait!  Stop! Help!"  Stiles was screaming at the top of her lungs.  Derek and his family watched helplessly as she was drug away from them by the chain and trap around her leg.  They watched her grasp and claw at the ground as she was dragged and they heard a new sound...someone calling Stiles’ name.  Someone close.

 

Suddenly there was light and everyone was blinking and Stiles was still screaming but now she was being hugged from behind, her body shaking and tears falling down unchecked even as her screaming slowly peters out to allow the words around her to filter in.

 

"Stiles!  It’s alright!  It’s okay Stiles, you’re safe!"  The voice belongs to Ms. McCall.  Stiles begins to calm but her breaths are still coming too fast.  Ms. McCall and surprisingly Agent McCall sit with her, the nurse holding her arms down to her sides and steady as the Agent holds up a flashlight.  Derek and his family look around to see that Stiles had been pulled out of the wreckage from the Hale House.  He could hear his family wheeze as they took in the dilapidated exterior once more.  No matter how many times they had been faced with this vision in Stiles’ recollections, the pain never lessened.  

 

Memories zipped by once more until the pack found themselves in the hospital standing beside Stiles and Scott who were next to a large MRI machine.  Stiles was seated, dressed in a hospital gown with her pajama pants while Scott stood in front of her.  Derek could see Ms. McCall talking with Stiles’ father and a doctor but he focused instead on what was happening in the room with Stiles and Scott.

 

The intercom crackled however and the doctor’s voice filtered in, "Stiles, just to warn you, you’re going to hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It’s due to pulses of electricity going through metal coils inside the machine. Uh, if you want we can get you earplugs or headphones."

 

Stiles was shaking, her voice quiet, strained.  "I don't need anything."

 

Derek saw the man nod and the intercom turned off allowing the illusion of privacy once more.

 

Scott knelt down slightly to catch Stiles’ eyes.  "You know we’ll be right there in the other room on the other side of the window, okay?”

 

Stiles nodded but her eyes weren’t quite there.  She seemed smaller now.  "I know, but you know what they’re looking for, right?" She asked him, looking up into his face. "It’s called frontotemporal dementia. It’s where areas of your brain start to shrink. It’s what my mother had."  She revealed, a tear falling from her left eye to streak down her face. "It’s the only form of dementia that can hit teenagers...and there’s no _cure_."  Stiles’ breaths were shuddering and Derek’s heart was breaking.

 

Scott looked at her, a sad expression on his face.  "Stiles, if you have it, we’ll do something." He took her hand and squeezed it.  " _I'll_ do something."

 

Nothing more was said between the two as they wrapped each other in a tight embrace.  Soon the hug ended and Scott stepped from the room while Stiles shifted to lie on the platform that would go into the MRI machine.  A nurse came over and tucked the blanket in around her and she whispered a quiet thanks.  The bed soon moved in and the doctor’s voice rang out again.  "Okay, Stiles. This will take about 45 minutes to an hour. Now remember, try not to move."  Derek chuckled, a strangled sound that wheezed from his throat as Stiles froze from where she had been twitching.  She adjusted slightly once more.  "Even just a little bit."  The voice intoned.  "Stiles, you’re going to hear that noise now. It’s going to be a loud clanging. Kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil."

 

The noise started up and Stiles flinched hard.  The noise continued and even grew louder.  Then suddenly there came a shrill shriek that no one in the room reacted to as Stiles closed her eyes tightly.  Then suddenly the clanging noise and the shriek was gone. The group watched confusedly as Stiles was shown standing next to the MRI machine but both rooms were empty and there was a green kind of haze over the whole thing which made it appear out of focus. Looking around, everyone, including Stiles, froze as they noticed the man from earlier--the Nogitsune in it’s original form.

 

"Have you figured out my riddle yet?" He asked, sauntering closer to Stiles.  "If you answer correctly, we _might_ consider letting them go.  Your friends.  Your family.   _Everyone_ who ever meant something to you...we’re going to destroy _all of them_ , Stiles.  One.  By.  One."

 

Tears began to fall from Stiles’ eyes.  She asked the bandaged man "why" but received nothing but a riddle in return,  "Everyone has it but no one can lose it.  What is it?"

 

"I don’t know."  Stiles’ voice was wavering yet strong even as her body started to shake.   

 

"Everyone has it but no one can lose it."  The voice got louder and angrier and Stiles turned her back towards him, her hands running through her hair, tugging at the strands.  Derek and his family could only watch as the figure started to unwind the bandages around their head.  Their movements getting faster and faster, the pile of bandages growing large at its boot clad feet.  

 

"I don’t know!"  Stiles suddenly screamed out and then she froze, her head jerking up, a horrified expression coming over her face as she whispered out, "...A shadow."

 

They all watched horrified as Stiles slowly turned to face her tormentor and saw only herself standing there wearing a smirk.

 

Suddenly the group is yanked out of the green tinged room and into the proper MRI room just in time for the power to go out.  They watch as Stiles opens her eyes but they all realize immediately that the person looking through those whiskey eyes isn’t Stiles at all but the being that is near vibrating next to them.  

 

This new version of Stiles is snakelike as she takes in the machine she is in, her eyes dead and face devoid of emotion.  And then she was gone and the group was swept along with her as she made her way to Stiles’ hospital room where she dressed calmly and methodically before she walked out amidst the minor chaos in the halls.  The lights were flickering and ‘Stiles’ stopped just as the elevator down the hall opened up.  A tall, regal looking Japanese woman stood there and stared at the being wearing Stiles’ face.

 

"You know me."  The newcomer intoned.  ‘Stiles’ nodded her head once in her direction but remained silent.  "Then you remember that I won’t be deterred by your choice of host.  Even if they are an innocent girl."

 

The Nogitsune gave an indifferent look to the woman, her voice when she spoke was calm, "Are you threatening us?"

 

Suddenly two of the masked figures appeared on each side of the new woman.  "Now we’re threatening you."

 

The Nogitsune responded with a smirk, "We’re not really afraid of your little fireflies."  She turned on her heel and began to saunter away but stopped suddenly as the other woman’s voice rang out.  

 

"If the Oni can’t defeat you, I know someone who will."  

 

At this, the Nogitsune gave half a turn to take in the measure of the woman, nods slightly, and turns away with a smirk.  "I wouldn’t be so sure about that.  You might want to attend to your daughter."  

 

And Stiles and the Nogitsune were gone.

 

The memories swirled and warped until the group was left in the middle of a face off between Stiles, Scott, Ethan, and Aiden in the bowels of the high school.  Ethan and Aiden’s eyes are blazing as they glare at Stiles while Scott is between them and facing her.

 

"It’s me, Scott. I swear it’s me. I don’t know where I’ve been the last two days or what I’ve been doing, but this is me. I promise."

 

Scott looked closely at her and gave a slight nod.  The twins behind him dropping their glowing eyes but not moving back.  "You know what happened at the hospital?"

 

"I know more than that."  She revealed as she showed them the backpack that was at her feet.  She opened it and began to pull out documents and tools and rope.  "You see this? It’s a blueprint of the hospital’s electrical wiring. You see all these markings in red? That’s my handwriting. I know I did this. I caused the accident.  Who got hurt?"

 

"Isaac saved a girl’s life and he got electrocuted.  He’s in bad shape.  He’s not healing properly."

 

A flinch took over Stiles and Derek noticed a struggle take place on her face before her expression shuttered.  Her hands shook as she turned back towards the paperwork.  "Okay.  Okay.  And everything in this bag, it’s all stuff that could be part of something bigger."

 

The trio surrounding Stiles watched her pull out the spool of rope, a spool of wire and a bag full of tools along with a paper scribbled in more writing.  "What the hell were you doing?"  Aiden questioned.  "Building a terminator?"

 

"Thanks for that."  Stiles was staring at the paper intently and she jumped slightly.  "Guys, wait.  This is a map."  She shoved it towards the trio.  "This is a map for the lacrosse and track team’s run."

 

"They’re running right passed the wreck where Malia’s family died."  Scott pointed out.

 

Stiles turned.  "You mean where her father buried a ton of steel-jawed traps?"

 

Suddenly everyone was running.  There were shouts and the thudding of footsteps and people were falling until everyone stopped moving.  Stiles was crouched on the ground and she began to uncover a chain that was buried under the leaves.  She began to follow it and she let out a deep sigh when it led to nothing.

 

Coach started walking past her sarcastically muttering, "Congratulations Stilinski.  You found a full length chain."  He started to move past her.  "Can somebody now please tell me what the hell is going on?"

 

Derek saw Scott jump towards Coach just as he hears a click and suddenly an arrow buried itself in Coach’s abdomen.  "Oh crap."  He uttered and fell onto his back.  Then he started screaming, "Get it out of me!  Oh, my God, I’m gonna die."

 

Stiles was trying to reassure a shocked Coach that he was not going to die but it didn’t seem to be helpful.  Stiles pushed on the skin surrounding the arrow and blood began to trickle and spread all over his shirt to pool under his body.

 

Coach kept panicking so Stiles gave Scott a look and everyone watched as Scott began to take his pain away until Coach passed out.  

 

Scott began to pull Stiles away Coach.  She wasn’t even paying attention, her eyes fixated on the blood coating her shaking hands.  They made an abortive motion upwards but they froze, the blood dripping.  "I could have killed him. I could have killed him, right? What if it was his head or his throat?"  Stiles choked out.

 

"But it wasn’t." Scott assured her, "And he’s going to be alright."

 

A student’s voice jumped into the moment suddenly.  "I think I just heard an ambulance coming."

 

Everyone looked up and coming down the path towards the group was an ambulance with its lights flashing.  And just behind it came a sheriff’s cruiser with it’s sirens blaring and lights flashing.

 

"And my dad." A small smile was on Stiles’ face but it didn’t escape Derek’s notice that her tone didn’t match.

 

The Sheriff grabbed Stiles into a hug right when he jumped out of his cruiser and made it to her.  Derek’s pack watched as the two embraced while the twins and Scott had another conversation too far away.  Everything began to move quickly, the Sheriff walked away from his daughter and towards a deputy who was coming off a school bus, a worried expression on his face.  They watched the two exchange a short conversation before the deputy went back onto the bus.  The  minutes that passed were tense as Stiles and her invisible entourage stood watching everything play out after they realized there was a bomb on the bus.  

 

Suddenly the deputy who went in the bus again spoke through the radio.  "It’s not a bomb, sir, but there is something in the box."

 

"What’s in the box, Parrish?"

 

The deputy--Parrish, then appeared in the back window of the bus holding up a nameplate--the Sheriff’s.

 

The man himself appeared confused for a moment and then his jaw dropped, his eyes widening. "My God." He breathed, "There is a bomb, but not here."  And with that he began screaming into his radio that there was a bomb on his desk in the Sheriff’s station.  Panic ensued and Stiles was swept up by her father and Scott as they and an army of deputies raced back towards their base.

 

When they got there it was utter chaos and all Derek could do was take in the damage.  There was blood and broken glass everywhere.  People’s bodies thrown over tables and onto the floor, bleeding, groaning in pain, dying.  He saw his older self being helped to his feet by Chris Argent, his back full of glass but being supported by Argent.  His attention was pulled back towards Stiles as she and Scott knelt down by an officer who was bleeding profusely.  

 

"Can you do something?"  Stiles asked Scott, her hands shaking.  "Take his pain?  Anything to make it easier?"

 

Scott nodded and reached out his hand to take the Deputy’s pain until he passed, his eyes left open and glassy.

 

Kira runs in suddenly and begins to hurry Scott and Stiles up, "Go! Go, go, go!  The Oni are coming!  We have to leave."

 

Scott grabbed Stiles’ arm and began to haul her shaking form up.  "Stiles, come on.  We’ve gotta get you out of here."

 

The trio rushed out of the Sheriff’s station leaving the slaughter behind to run for their lives.  They made it to Deaton’s clinic right as a torrential downpour opened from the skies.  The sun gone now giving them no time frame on how long they had until the Oni appeared.  

 

The group made their way to the back door that Deaton uses to load and unload patients.  "It’ll buy us some time."  Scott assured.

 

"What if they get through?"  Kira was soaked to the bone but clutching her Katana in her right palm.

 

"They will eventually."  Was Scott’s response.  As they came closer to the door, two Oni appeared.  "Stiles get inside."  He then shifted and ran towards the Oni, Kira right behind him wielding her Katana.  

 

Stiles didn’t go inside however.  She stood there frozen watching as Scott and Kira fought off the creatures.  She did turn frantically to unlock the door when she saw things starting to falter.  Derek knew Stiles heard the grunt as Scott was skewered in the abdomen by one of the Oni’s swords.  When she heard this, Derek and his family watched as Stiles rushed over to him, Kira running over to grab Scott’s other arm.  They began to pull him quickly towards the open door.  Once the two got Scott leaning against the examination table Derek’s blood froze as he saw Stiles’ demeanor shift entirely.  

 

Stiles knocked the sword out of Kira’s hand, grabbed her neck and wrist and slammed her head down into the metal table and then just let her unconscious form fall to the ground.

 

The pack could do nothing but watch in horror as Scott glanced at Stiles aghast, the sword still buried in his chest.

 

Stiles’ expression was shuttered, her actions snakelike as she looked her friend up and down, a blank expression on her face.  "You okay?"

 

Her eyes were flat, dead, as her soaked form stalked towards him.  Scott could only beg, his eyes pleading.  "Please don’t."

 

Stiles stroked her fingers along the handle and began to tap them as though she were playing piano keys.  "Stop."

 

"It’s okay."  She breathed out as she placed her left hand on his shoulder while taking a firm grip of the sword’s handle.  Scott groaned at the motion which only heightened as Stiles began to twist the blade inside him.  "Does it hurt?" She asked.  Her voice devoid of emotion, face twisted with sick curiosity.

 

"Hey, look at me." Stiles whispered to him. Scott glanced up at her, his form trembling.  "You should have done your reading, Scott." She twisted the sword again earning a strangled grunt. "See, a Nogitsune _feeds_ off chaos, strife and pain." Another sickening twist. "This morning, you took it from Isaac, then you took it from Coach. And then from a dying Deputy."  This version of Stiles shook her head slowly at him.  "All that pain. You took it all."  She crooned before she demanded, "Now, give it to me."

 

With that she moved her left hand from his shoulder to his face where the black veins from earlier fed into Stiles’ skin.  The transfer had Scott choking but Stiles herself had a blissful expression come over her face as her jaw dropped.  As soon as the tendrils stopped she released his face and Scott fell back a bit but Stiles maintained a tight grip on the sword inside him while she placed her left hand back on his shoulder.  "You really have to learn, Scott.  You really have to learn _not_ to trust a fox."  Stiles taunted but there were new streaks of water falling down Stiles’ face.  With a start Derek realized that they were tears mingling with the water sluicing down from her hair.  A savage wink was on her face, a wink juxtaposing the shedding of her tears as she continued to needle at Scott.  "Know why? ‘Cause they're tricksters.  They’ll fool you. They’ll fool everyone."

 

She readjusted her grip on the knife and suddenly Deaton came out of the shadows from behind her. "Not everyone."  His voice was just as calm as he stabbed a needle into Stiles’ neck and depressed the plunger. The pack watched Stiles start to convulse, a sick grin still on her twisted features as she finally collapsed to the ground and lay there twitching weakly.

 

There was a haze surrounding the memory as Deaton pulled the sword from Scott’s chest and told him that what he’d administered wasn’t a cure--only a poison that would slow the progression.  And then Stiles was still and the memory turned into a swirl.

* * *

 

The pack was quiet as they solidified in an equally quiet car ride with the Sheriff and Stiles.  They watched as the patrol car pulled to a stop in front of a building that everyone in town knew--Eichen House.  

 

"No."  Breathed out Laura.  She took a stumbling step up next to Derek.  "Don’t tell me they’re going to lock her in there."

 

Talia’s voice was monotone as she answered from somewhere behind them.  "It would be the safest place.  They have a wing designed specifically to hold us.  If anywhere could, it would be here."

 

"This isn’t right!" Laura shouted, whirling towards her mother.  "This isn’t Stiles’ fault!  She’s being possessed!"

 

Robert broke in then.  "That’s true but if they can’t find a way to stop the Nogitsune then they need to quarantine her."  He stepped closer and placed a hand on her shoulder.  "This is the only way."

 

Laura looked away from her father and instead focused on Stiles as she and her father slowly emerged from their car.  It wasn’t hard to hear the sound of a dirt bike coming up behind them.  Scott pulled off his helmet and set it down as he walked towards them.  "Why didn’t you tell me?"  He demanded.

 

Stiles remained quiet, her face looking towards the building, expression haunted.  It was her father who responded in her stead.  "Because we wanted to avoid something like this.  It’s only 72 hours."  He assured as he stepped up placing his hand on Stiles’ shoulder which brought her into the conversation.

 

"This is the same place where Barrow came from.  The guy who had a tumor inside of him filled with flies who tried to kill Kira."  He turned towards the Sheriff when he wasn’t getting a reaction from Stiles.  "You don’t know everything yet."

 

"I know enough." The Sheriff’s voice hard.  "Nogitsunes, Kitsunes, Oni, or whatever they’re called."

 

"Wow that was actually all surprisingly correct." Scott’s voice was just as hard, short of sarcastic.  The Sheriff shifted to look directly in his eyes.

 

"Scott, I saw an MRI that looked _exactly_ like my wife’s before she died. And it _terrified_ me.  I’m headed down to L.A. tomorrow to talk to a specialist."

 

"Then why are you putting her in here?"  Scott pressed.

 

Stiles finally spoke.  " _He’s_ not.  It was my decision."

 

She looked at him and Laura noted that Scott’s expression was grave, confused.  "Stiles, I can’t help you if you’re in here."

 

"And I can’t hurt you."

 

Scott started to spill out, "Deaton’s got ideas.  Argent’s making some calls.  We’re gonna find something alright.  And if we can--"

 

Stiles cut him off.  "If you can’t...If you can’t, then you have to do something for me okay?"  She glanced between Scott and her father, a determined expression on her face.  "Make sure I _never_ get out."   

 

The gate buzzes open and the Stilinskis’ make their way in while Scott stands alone as the tall gates close between them, the clang deafening.

 

The entire group finds themselves in an administrative office where a nurse was standing with a bundle of items.  "First 72 hours there's no phone calls, no e-mails, no visitors."

 

Stiles wasn’t paying attention to her but was instead looking out into the hall at a woman with long brown hair who had just turned away.  When she looked at the orderly and then back the woman was gone.  

 

Laura felt a chill travel through her.  She could hear the screams and the cries of the other patients.  They were grating on her heightened senses.  She could tell they were bothering Stiles and her father as well as they endeavored to suppress their flinches at every new sound.

 

The nurse didn’t notice that however as she continued on, "We will be taking you from here to a brief physical. In the morning you’ll be assessed by a staff psychologist, there you’ll speak to a social worker and attend group therapy."

 

The sound of a door buzzing open caused the Sheriff to jump and turn towards Stiles.  "I feel like we’re forgetting something."

 

"You will be wearing these, Stiles." The woman said as she handed her a pair of lace-less slippers.  "No laces allowed.  Please empty your pockets in here."  She held out a bucket where Stiles proceeded to drop her phone and keys with her shoes.

 

"Your pillow." The Sheriff said suddenly, his voice loud and strained. "Your pillow. We forgot your pillow."

 

"Dad, it’s okay.  It’s okay."  She tried to reassure him as he stood up and began to pace.

 

"No, no. You’re never going to be able to fall asleep without it.  We... We’ve got to go back."

 

"It’s fine, Dad.  I don’t need it."

 

Laura could see that the Sheriff was no longer listening however as his pacing grew.  "I can’t believe I forgot it.  I mean, _every_ time that we’ve ever stayed in a hotel, the _first_ thing you pack is your pillow."

 

"You can bring it tomorrow. It’s alright."  She assured him.

 

He started to calm slightly but the sound of a buzzing and the door opening behind him admitting a new person riled him up once more.  "Okay, you know what? Stop. Stop. Enough."  He turned towards Stiles, his expression fierce.  "Stiles, get your stuff.  I’m not checking you in here if you’re not gonna get one good night’s sleep."

 

The newcomer and nurse stayed silent as Stiles approached her father.  "Dad.  I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in _weeks_." With that she stepped closer and grabbed her dad into a tight embrace, laying her head on his chest.  The Sheriff couldn’t see Stiles’ expression but Laura could and she felt her heart crack at the worry, and the terror and the bleak acceptance that she saw in Stiles’ eyes.  If this is what she felt now, she could not imagine what else could have happened that would send her new friend’s eyes blazing and dead in equal measure, her stomach threatened rebellion at the simple thought.

 

Soon Stiles and her father separated and then they were taken away from one another.  Stiles led by the new person from the room and her father left standing forlorn in the office behind her.  Laura and her family traveled with Stiles as the orderly began to lead Stiles around.  

 

The building was just as horrible as Laura had imagined.  Everywhere there were patients wandering lost, people crying, occasional screams rending the almost deathly silent air.  The orderly urged Stiles up the stairs but she caught sight of the same woman from earlier down one of the many winding halls.  Laura wished to get a closer view but the orderly urged Stiles onwards and upwards.  When Laura looked back the strange woman was gone.

 

She turned to face forward and watched Stiles who was preoccupied staring at a man standing on one of the landings above her.  He was tying a knot using one of the bed sheets that seemed to be everywhere.  He was mumbling a riddle, "I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky." The man looped the makeshift noose around his neck and Stiles was off like a shot, quickly rushing up the stairs leaving the orderly behind her cursing at her.  "I can swim in the ocean, yet still remain dry. I can swim in the ocean, yet still remain dry. I can swim in the ocean, yet still remain dry…"

 

"Somebody stop him!" Stiles screamed, still running up the stairs, but it was too late. The man leapt from the landing and everyone watched as his body jerked against the tension in the sheet.  The man’s body was left hanging, his body suspended two landings above where Stiles was stopped, gaping at the sight above her.  A crowd of onlookers gathered in the stairwell below and Laura wasn’t the only one besides Stiles to notice the Nogitsune’s bandage wrapped visage in the audience.   It appeared to look right at Stiles and snarl.

 

Stiles was then quickly shuffled to a room with an open door. She turned quickly to look at the woman who had been guiding her.  "Okay, I know there’s the whole 72 hour thing but I’d really need to use the phone."

 

"The accident that occurred is being taken care of."

 

"You’re seriously referring to that as an accident?"  Stiles balked, incredulous.

 

"Incident."  The emotionless woman amended.

 

Stiles shrugged uneasily.  "Slightly better. Still need to use the phone.  Just five minutes."  She begged.  "Three minutes, please. A three minute call."

 

The orderly stepped forward making Stiles take a step back into the room.  "Would you like to go to sleep, Stiles, or would you like to be introduced to our five-point restraint system?"

 

A voice from behind sent Stiles and Laura’s pack whirling.  On the bed there was a pale boy with brown hair who was secured to the bed, unable to move.  "I would go with sleep."

 

The sound of the door clanging closed and locking sent Stiles hurtling herself at the door.  "Hey, wait, wait, wait!"  The orderly never returned and eventually Stiles slumped against the door and retreated to the empty bed opposite the restrained boy.

 

"I’m Oliver."  He offered in the deafening silence.

 

"Stiles."  Came the dull reply.

 

"There was a suicide, huh?"

 

"Yeah."

 

"Is it Monday? There’s a much higher rate of suicide on Mondays."  

 

Stiles nods.

 

"Okay then."  Stiles stood again and made her way to the door.  "Um, hey, can someone... Someone just please let me out of here. Someone. Anyone?"  Stiles’ voice got both more frantic and quiet as the moments passed without a response.

 

"I heard it by the way. It happened in the stairwell, right?"

 

"Yeah."  She turned towards her companion.  "How’d you know that?"

 

"I heard the echo."

 

Stiles was staring hard at the boy.  "What do you mean?"

 

"It’s this place."  Oliver gestured as much as he could to encompass the building.  "Something about the way that it was built. Everything echoes. Eventually. That’s why they call it Echo House."

 

With that parting bit of information, the bound boy fell into what appeared to be a drugged sleep while Stiles remained awake, the circles under her eyes getting darker but her expression determined, exhausted.  

 

The sun was streaming through a window when Oliver awoke.  He stretched as much as he could and glanced over at Stiles where she hadn’t moved throughout the whole night.  "Have you been awake all night?"

 

"Yeah, I can’t sleep without my pillow."

 

Oliver began hacking, straining against his restraints.  "You okay?"

 

"I swallowed a bug the other day. You ever do that? I keep coughing. Like it’s still in my throat."

 

"That’s disgusting, Oliver."  She turned towards the door.  "You don’t have any idea when they unlock the doors, do you?"

 

At that moment the sound of the lock clicking rings out and footsteps filter in from outside.  Stiles makes her way out of the room leaving Oliver to be attended by the orderly who walked in--a different one from last night.  She made her way to the stairwell where there was no evidence that anyone had killed themselves there only a handful of hours ago.  While she was examining the railing, Oliver snuck up behind her and coughed heartily, startling her.

 

"Now. Most of the people here are okay. The violent ones are in the closed unit."  He takes Stiles’ arm and begins to walk her around.  They make it all the way to the ground floor and towards a solarium of some sort where multiple patients are mingling in their own ways.  "That’s Hillary."  He gestured towards a woman with uncombed hair.  "She has OCD.  And that’s Gary. He thinks he’s Jesus Christ. Dan. Also Jesus. That’s Mary…"  He pointed to three people consecutively befores Stiles cut him off.

 

"Mary Magdalene?"

 

"No, she also thinks she’s Jesus. You’d be surprised how many Jesuses we get."

 

"Not really."  Stiles muttered.

 

Suddenly Oliver perked up and began to drag Stiles somewhere. "Hey, how come you want to use the phone already?"

 

"‘Cause after one night, I’ve changed my mind about this place being safe for me. Or anyone. Ever."

 

The two arrived at the phone to see a woman dressed in grey with short curly hair already using it.  They waited a short distance away but everyone could hear her conversation.  "No. No, I think you’re wrong. I really think I should tell them. They’re going to want to know the story. The whole story. I really think they should know. Yes, I do."  She paused suddenly and took in a shuddering breath before she whispered into the hand held,  "One of them is standing right behind me."

 

Stiles flinched and watched as the girl dropped the phone, letting it hang by it’s cord as she scurried away without even looking in Stiles’ direction.  "Who was that?"

 

"That’s Meredith. She’s a little weird."

 

Stiles grabbed up the head set, her face hard.  "You’re a little weird. She’s a lot weird."  She picked up the phone and put it to her ear.  "It’s dead."

 

Stiles’ eyes were wide but Oliver looked unsurprised.  "Yeah. They turn off all the phones for 24 hours after a suicide."

 

Derek’s mutter caught Laura’s attention.  "I don’t like this."  She could only nod silently as she watched the events of the past continue to play out.   

 

"Why didn’t you tell me that before?"  She looked annoyed.

 

"Why didn’t you ask? What are you going to do now?"  He threw back at her and then began to follow her as she began to speed walk away.

 

"I’m getting out of this nuthouse."

 

"That’s not really the appropriate way to describe a facility like this."

 

Stiles ignored him as she continued to walk but she stopped suddenly as she caught sight of someone.  A girl with long brown hair, different from the girl from earlier on the stairs and in the hall.  Laura remembered seeing a glimpse of her in Stiles’ memories but nothing substantial.   

 

"Malia?"  She changed directions quickly and began walking towards her, Oliver following a few steps behind.  "Hey. It’s Stiles. Do you remember me? I’m friends with Scott. Remember. We were the ones who helped you out with--"  Stiles grunted and fell to the ground as the other girl swung a fist at her which connected to her left cheek.

 

The girl, Malia, was suddenly pulled away by a couple of orderlies and Stiles is pushed onto her front from two other orderlies, her face pressed to the ground next to a grate.

 

"No! Hey, what the hell?"  Malia griped as she was restrained.

 

"A few more like this, Malia, and you’re headed to the closed unit."  A tall, creepy orderly threatened.  Malia was dragged away and Stiles was beginning to be manhandled.   

 

"Okay, wait, wait, wait. Stop. I didn’t doing anything!"   

 

A familiar voice emerged among the shouts and everyone, invisible and not, froze at the command in it.  "Enough!"  It was Morrell.  She stepped closer to the orderlies and repeated her order.  "Enough."  They let go of Stiles and she attempted to right herself as they disappeared and Morrell stepped closer to her.

 

"Stiles."  She called.  "You saw something, didn’t you?"

 

She nodded, her breath still catching.  "That basement. I’ve been down there before."

 

The memories swirled and suddenly Stiles was sitting in a large circle filled with people Laura didn’t recognize and some she did: Oliver, Morrell, and Malia.

 

Morrell was the first to speak.  "I want to go back to the topic of guilt today.  It might surprise you to hear me say that guilt is a good thing.  It’s a rather mature emotion."

 

Malia scoffed at this which caught Morrell’s attention.  "Malia, you said something about guilt the other day.  You said it came with a visceral reaction."

 

"I said it made me feel sick to my stomach."

 

Morrell nodded, pleased. "Guilt often becomes physical. You feel it in your gut. It’s not just psychological."  She started going around the room.  Laura glances with Stiles around the room and they both freeze as they see the Nogitsune talking to one of the orderlies. "How does guilt make you feel, Stiles?"

 

Stiles jerked at her name.  "I’m sorry, what?"

 

"Guilt.  What does it make you feel?"

 

Stiles bit her lip.  "Nervous."

 

"Like a sense of _urgency_?" She pressed.  “Like you feel an urgent need to make up for something you’ve done. To apologize."

 

Stiles glanced at Malia to see her glaring but says nothing.  

 

"These are healthy responses."  Stiles flinches as she sees the Nogitsune seated right next to her.  Laura let out a growl at how close the creature was to Stiles.  "Does anyone know what we call someone who doesn’t experience guilt?"

 

"Sociopath." Came Oliver’s response.

 

"That’s right, Oliver."  Laura looked away from the Nogitsune to stare at Morrell as she stopped speaking.  She saw that she was staring at Stiles’ neck--the same side that Deaton had stabbed with a needle some time earlier.   "I’m sorry, everyone, but we need to take a break."

 

She stood quickly and stopped Stiles from moving away as she beckoned to her.  "Come with me, Stiles. I’d like to talk to you for a minute."

 

The pack and Stiles were whisked away with Morrell and they found themselves in what appeared to be her office.  The walls were a bland taupe color and filled with medical texts that both people ignored.  Morrell gestured for Stiles to turn and lift the back of her shirt.  When she did, Laura’s pack gasped as they took in the red markings that were scattered across Stiles’ back.  They looked like lightning bolts running from the middle of her back, over her shoulder and up the left side of her neck.

 

She turned when she heard Derek mutter to himself, "So that’s what those marks were."  Before she had a chance to question him, Morrell began talking.  "It’s called a Lichtenberg figure. They appear on lightning strike victims. The fact that they’re appearing on you after a shot of wolf lichen is both significant and strange."

 

Stiles turned towards her already readjusting her shirt.  "By significant and strange do you mean hopeful and optimistic?"

 

Morrell remained unmoved.  "When the marks fade, the Nogitsune’s grip over you will return."  Laura watched as she went to a cabinet in the corner and came back with a small cap of pills which she gave to Stiles.

 

"What are these?  Sleeping pills?"  Stiles asked as she examined them.

 

"Amphetamines.  Sleeping is exactly what you don’t want to do. You’re vulnerable when you’re asleep."

 

Stiles looked up at her in askance.  "So all I have to do is stay awake?"

 

"For now.  If your friends haven’t figured out something by the time those marks are gone, I’ll come find you."  The hairs on Laura’s neck and arms began to rise.

 

"To tell me what to do?"

 

"No, to give you an injection.  Pancuronium Bromide. It causes respiratory paralysis."  Her tone was conversational as though they were discussing the weather rather than murder.

 

"That sounds a lot like death."  Stiles’ eyes were sharp, picking apart the woman before her.

 

"It’s used for lethal injection, yes."

 

"So when the Nogitsune takes over, you’re what?  Going to kill me?"

 

"I’m going to do what I’ve always done.  Maintain the balance."  Was her reply.

 

"You know what?  You and your damn cryptic brother can shove your ‘balance’ shtick right up your asses.  You and that damn tree stump in the forest."  

 

At this finally, Morrell gave a reaction.  "What do you mean?"

 

"Don’t play coy with me.  You told Scott about the Nemeton, remember.  Yeah, we know where it is.  And we know all about it.  No surprise there--it wasn’t either of you that really told us shit.  Now I’m possessed and bound to some fucking tree that I can’t stand and now you’re talking about murdering me to protect your precious ‘balance’?"  Stiles’ eyes had begun to glow-- something that had been strangely absent during the last few days.  And the marking that was on her arm, something else that had disappeared a few days ago inexplicably, resurfaced, it’s tendrils appearing to shift on her fingers.

 

Morrell leapt across and snatched her hand, her own in a death grip as she examined it.  The pack was struck silent watching the memory play out before them.  "Where did you get this?"  She grit out.

 

"Woke up from a nightmare screaming one night and there it was.  Your brother decided to tell me a fun little story about what exactly this mark means and he decided to inform me that he didn’t tell me the whole truth about my magic."  Stiles began to stalk closer to Morrell.  "So you can imagine how pissed off I am right now.  A magical death tree in the woods asserted some claim over me and now I’m the host for some murderous fox spirit of death."  She stepped right up to Morrell and whispered in her ear, her voice venomous, "I suggest you rethink killing me for the sake of some balance that you and your brother have continuously failed to maintain.  Foolish children messing with things they don’t understand."

 

The words chilled Laura who recognized that it wasn’t just Stiles who was talking in that moment.  She had learned through the memories that she and her family had already seen that Stiles was adept at using words as weapons and she wielded sarcasm readily but she had rarely spoken with such disdain.  

 

Morrell took in a shuddering breath and stepped backwards.  Enough for everyone present to see a small smirk on Stiles’ lips before her face was suddenly wiped clean, her sarcastically jovial expression back.  Laura noted that Stiles’ glowing eyes and her tattoo were gone once more.  She had a feeling that something had shifted but she filed it away for later.  There would be much to talk about later.  

 

"Okay then. I’ve missed our talks.  Thanks for the illicit drugs."  Stiles turned and began to meander out the door before Morrell’s shaky voice stopped her briefly.  "Stiles.  Stay awake."

 

The pack followed Stiles through the hospital and stood as a silent guard as she attempted to open a locked door which had the word ‘basement’ stamped on it in black paint.  They couldn’t alert her as Stiles was snuck up on by a curious Oliver who asked her what she was doing.  Stiles made the argument that she needed to get into the basement but did not reveal why.  It seemed Oliver was a fount of knowledge this time around as he shared that only the head orderly, the creepy one Stiles had seen earlier, was the one holding that key and that Stiles would have to find some way to trick him.  Their exchange ended when Stiles muttered to her companion that a part of her was getting quite good at tricking other people and she walked away towards the women’s restroom.

 

The room was dark and cavernous much like the rest of the building but this one was filled with steam from a shower which Stiles ignored until she caught a glimpse of the face staring out at her.  She was standing under the spray, the steam billowing out around her.  Stiles could imagine the water was extremely hot but Malia looked disgruntled as she shivered slightly.

 

She answered Stiles’ unasked question.  "It’s much hotter in here.  Ever since I turned back to human I just can’t seem to get warm."

 

Laura had a flash of that coyote that had been chasing Stiles and Scott briefly.  That’s where she knew her from.  There was something else though.  Something she couldn’t place.

 

"Maybe you just have a low core temp., you know.  Or you’re sick or--"

 

"I used to have a fur coat."  She cut in.

 

"Yeah…"  Stiles cringed.  "I was…"  Stiles appeared to weigh something before she asked.  "I was wondering why you punched me earlier."

 

The water cuts off with a swift, jerking motion.  Malia steps out uncaring if Stiles is standing there.  She wraps a towel around herself only when she starts to shiver. "Did you think I was going to _thank_ you?"

 

"No."  Stiles blurted out.  "Maybe."  She jerked towards her.  "We did kind of save your life, you know."

 

Malia rolled her eyes, her actions jerky as she tightened her towel around her body.  "You're right, Stiles. Thank you. Thanks for _invading my home_ . For putting me on the run. For turning me back to human so that I could _look at my father every day_ and try to figure out how to explain to him that the reason my sister and mother are dead is because _I almost ate them_ on a full moon. _Thank you so very much_."

 

Stiles looked chastised, guilty as she absorbed what Malia had told her and her voice was quiet as she responded.  "We were just trying to help."

 

"Yeah,"  She stepped out of the stall.  "And how’d that work out for you?  We’re both locked in the nuthouse.  Hiding from our families."

 

Stiles definitely flinched at those comments.  She rallied after the long pause.  "I know someone who might be able to help."  Malia looked up at Stiles here and she continued, "To teach you.  How to change."

 

Malia appeared to contemplate her words, her head tilted.  "What do you want?"

 

"I need to get in the basement.  I need to get my keys from that creepy orderly."

 

"Brunski?"  

 

"Yeah.  That one."

 

Malia nodded, decided.  "You help me, I’ll help you."

 

The next thing the pack knew, Oliver was on top of Malia where they were on the concrete ground of the solarium.  "You’re lying!  You’re a lying liar!"  He screamed in her face.

 

Stiles was watching the events unfold and she saw Brunski and the other orderlies run over and begin pulling Oliver away, his shouts echoing, "No!  She said they drill holes in your head!  She said they’re going to put a hole in my head!  Please don’t drill a hole in my head!"  Oliver was dragged out by the orderlies but not before he sent the pair of Stiles and Malia a wink.

 

"You okay?"  Stiles asked glancing towards Malia.

 

"Yeah."  She handed the keys she had lifted to Stiles and the two parted ways.  

 

The pack followed Stiles as she walked to the locked door and began to try out the keys.

 

"Come on.  Come on.  I thought this guy had keys to everything."  She mumbled, growing frustrated.

 

"I do." Brunski's voice came from behind her.  Stiles startled badly, the keys falling to the ground where the tall man bent to pick them up.  "But nobody has the key to that room."

 

The pack watched as Stiles was grabbed and manhandled by two orderlies as Brunski walked ahead. "Into the Quiet Room, little lady."  Stiles was dragged into the empty white room, the walls padded and she was jerked forward towards the door where Brunski was leaning.  "Want to tell us where you got these?"  He asked her, brandishing his keys.

 

"A vending machine." Stiles bit out sarcastically.

 

Brunski laughed.  "I always love the sarcastic ones." He smirked before facing one of the two orderlies.  "Give her five of the Haldol."

 

"I’m afraid they shouldn’t do that."  Came Deaton’s voice from behind Laura.  She was going to ask him why but Stiles was thrashing in her attacker’s arms trying to get away from the needle that was coming towards her.

 

"Wait. What’s that?  Is that a sedative?" She continued to struggle, the orderlies losing their grip on her as Brunski took the needle and came closer to her.  She  began to pull herself backwards even as the orderlies drug her across the floor, her slippered feet sliding.  "Okay, hang on. Hang on! I can’t go to sleep." She said thrashing around just as Brunski grabbed her arm in a tight grip. "Okay, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Let me go!"  The more frantic Stiles got, the more Derek began to lose control.  Laura could feel him vibrating out of his skin, his claws already unsheathed, his eyes flashing, a deep bass growl rumbling up and out of his throat.  It all meant nothing though as they watched Stiles struggle fruitlessly.  

 

"I can’t go to sleep... you don’t understand.  You don’t get it. I gotta stay awake. I gotta stay--" Stiles was cut off as Brunski jammed the needle into her neck.  Laura and her pack watch as Stiles’ entire body becomes lax. The orderlies stand straight and begin to walk out, walking through their invisible audience.  Stiles was left on the ground boneless.  Her eyes were trying to stay open, her hands turning into claws and slipping on the floor as she tried to stay upright.  She hit the ground with a thud that made Laura flinch.  "I have to... stay a...wake."  And she was gone.

 

A dead silence filled the darkness that the family was standing in.  No one knew what to say.  Laura could scent disgust, anger, sadness around her.  Apparently no words were needed after all. The darkness around them morphed and they found themselves trapped once more with Stiles in a locker.  

 

The slats let light in which streaked across her eyes but that was of little consequence to Stiles who began to bang on the door to the locker.  "No, no. Hey. Hey! Hey. Hey, let me out! Let me out! Let me out!"  Stiles started screaming, the shouting becoming louder as a shadow appears through the slats.   

 

"Let me in."  The Nogitsune growled.

 

Stiles backed up until she hit the back of the locker.  "What...what do you mean?"  She stuttered out.

 

"You know."

 

Stiles stepped forward and started banging again.  "Okay, screw you and your stupid riddles."

 

"No riddle this time, Stiles. You know what it means."

 

The banging continued, "Let me out. Just let me out. Let me out. Just let me out!"

 

"Let me in!"  He roared at her.

 

"No, no, no. Shh! Hey, hey, hey. Shh!"  A new voice was here and Stiles threw herself up, struggling against the hand on her mouth.  Laura saw it was Malia.  "Shut up."  She hissed and Stiles suddenly went still and then Malia took her hand away.

 

"How did you get in here?"

 

Malia nodded towards the door.  "I broke the lock. If I concentrate I can be pretty strong."  She stood up and held out a hand to Stiles.  "Get up.  There’s another way to the basement. Through the Closed Unit. Where they keep the real psychos."  Malia grinned before she led the way out the door with Stiles following.  

 

Stiles and Malia made their way through to the basement which was filled from top to bottom with unused tech, file boxes, and dilapidated furniture.  "Do you even know what you’re looking for?"

 

"Something to do with that."  Stiles pointed and everyone turned to see a backwards 5 written in chalk on the wall.  

 

Malia walked closer.  "What does it mean?"

 

"Self."

 

She turned towards Stiles.  "Maybe you should tell me more."

 

She shook her head.  "No.  You might not like me if I tell you more."

 

The girl sent Stiles a deadpan expression.  "Try to remember that I’m a werecoyote who murdered her own family.  I won’t judge.  I promise."

 

Stiles snorted without humor and began to make her way towards the file boxes.

 

Malia’s voice broke the steady quiet the two had created as they searched the boxes.  "This place definitely used to be more fun, Electroshock, Ice Baths...Trepanation"

 

Stiles looked over.  "That’s what Oliver was talking about. Trepanation is when they drill into your head."

 

"No wonder they don’t want anyone down here."  Malia said putting the files down.  

 

"There’s nothing here." Stiles threw down her files.  “Can you do me a favor and check the lines on my back?  Tell me if they’re fading?"  She asked as she presented her back after she lifted up the back of her shirt.

 

The red lines were almost completely gone.  "Yeah they’re almost gone."  Stiles let out a huff and Malia looked intently at her back.  "I’m guessing that’s bad."

 

Malia slid Stiles’ shirt back down causing her to touch her back with her hand which caused Stiles to jump.

 

"Sorry.  I told you I’m always cold." She muttered.

 

"It’s okay." Stiles reassured.  She gathered Malia’s hands in hers.  "Wow you really are."

 

Malia laughed a little and Laura saw that the girl was watching Stiles intently and the moment Stiles looked up, Malia swooped in and kissed her.  Stiles’ eyes were wide open and shocked but she quickly closed them and started to kiss back.  

 

The two broke the kiss and pulled away.  Stiles was dazed as she watched Malia’s face.  "Was that your first kiss?"  Malia laughed and nodded.  "Was it okay?"  Malia nodded once more.  "Wanna try it again?"  Another nod.

 

Stiles leaned back in and kissed her, it quickly became heated and Stiles’ hands began to find their way to Malia’s legs.  Malia pulled back suddenly and breathed out, "I wanna try something else."  

 

"Something else?"  

 

"Yeah." Malia said as she pulled off her long sleeved shirt which left her shivering in her bra.  

 

Stiles’ expression froze and she grimaced, there and gone.  Malia looked confused for a moment.  "Are you okay Stiles?"

 

She received a smile and a nod and then the two were kissing again.  Laura couldn’t watch anymore as Stiles began to maneuver Malia until Stiles was leaning over her, their kissing picking up speed.  She turned away not wanting to see what was going to happen next.  This was a private moment and they shouldn’t even be here.  

 

The rest of her family was in a similar circumstance.  Everyone was facing away and trying their hardest to ignore the sounds coming from directly behind them.  Everyone but the Nogitsune who was wearing a cruel smirk on her cracked, wicked face.

 

Laura didn’t keep track of the time that had passed but eventually all the noise had settled down behind them and she turned briefly to see what had happened.  The two were clothed once more and cuddling on the couch.  

 

Laura gave the signal and everyone turned around and they saw the couple sitting placidly on the couch before Malia perked up suddenly and walked towards the wall with the chalk on it.  She started to knock.  Stiles stood up and followed her as Malia asked, "Stiles, do you hear that?"

 

Stiles walks closer and grabs a random piece of rebar while Malia moves away.  The pack watches as Stiles starts swinging at the wall.  Laura would be lying if she didn’t say it reminded her of the memory where Stiles beat Gerard Argent to death.  She pushed it aside however to watch as Stiles’ swings began tearing through the wall. When there’s quite a large hole,  she stops.  She drops the bar and panting, stares into the crevasse she had created.  Inside there is a body.

 

"This is him--the Nogitsune?" Stiles nods at Malia’s question.

 

Malia nods to herself and ducks in to begin searching through the pockets of the corpse’s bomber jacket.  She pulls out an old photograph from a pocket in the dead man’s shirt and hands it to Stiles. "Recognize them?"

 

Stiles takes it and begins to stand, her expression dropping.  "One of them. I gotta get this to Scott."  Suddenly Stiles began to convulse and Laura and her family turn to see Oliver standing where Stiles had been, a taser in his hand.  Everyone had been so preoccupied that they hadn’t noticed him sneaking up on them.    

 

"You took Brunski’s keys, I took his stun gun." With that, he jumps forward and shocks Malia too.  The pack can do nothing as she begins to slip down the wall when Oliver comes closer and stabs her with a needle which renders her unconscious.  "I also got his Haldol." Oliver then stands over the two and smiles at Stiles.  "It’s like I was saying, Stiles, I heard they did Trepanation here."  

 

"Oliver…"  Stiles rasped out.  "What a-are you doing?"  

 

Oliver grabbed a random drill and looks at Stiles as he pulls the trigger setting it whirling.  "I’m gonna let the evil spirits out."

 

And Stiles was gone.

 

"What the hell is going on with this hospital?"  Came Peter’s incredulous voice.

 

A gasping noise rang out which stopped anyone from responding.  They found they were still in the basement but now the situation had changed.  Malia and Stiles were strapped down into old fashioned patient chairs while Oliver was walking between them tightening their straps.

 

"I borrowed a few pointers from the five point restraints."  Oliver informed Stiles when he saw she was awake.

 

Stiles began to struggle in her chair.  "Oliver, stop this." She begged.  Oliver starts coughing and Laura sees blood come away alongside a firefly. He wipes it on his pant leg and begins to walk over to a stand where the drill was sitting.  "Oliver listen to me.  You need to stop.  Oliver."

 

Oliver starts the drill and slowly walks closer to Stiles, inching it closer to her head.  "Oliver stop!" Stiles yells as she tries to move her head away.

 

"Start with her." Came the voice of the Nogitsune.  Laura whirled around to find the form of either the version accompanying her pack or the bandaged man.  It’s the man in bandages and Stiles’ eyes widen as he comes closer. Stiles begins struggling again but this time to get towards the man pulling her strings.  " _You_ did this _, you_ got into his head."

"Every Dracula needs a Renfield." The Nogitsune intoned. Stiles looked over to see Oliver tightening the restraints on Malia. "Just let her go." She begs as she looked back at the Nogitsune.

 

"Let me in." He traded.

Stiles starts struggling again. "Stiles....do you want her to leave here alive? Do you want us to leave? We can walk out of this place--together."

"Just let her go, please!" Stiles begs.

 

The Nogitsune shifts out of the shadows to stand in front of Stiles’ bound form. "Let me in."

 

Stiles screams, her struggling becoming more violent, her wrists rubbing raw from the straps.  Laura is heaving in breaths, her chest tightening as Stiles’ memory plays out. "Let me in Stiles! Let me in!"

 

"Just let her go please!" Stiles screams, her voice cracking as Oliver starts the drill and moves it closer to Malia’s head.

 

"Let me in Stiles!"  The creature roars.

  

Tears are falling from Stiles’ eyes as she closes them.

 

"Let me in! Let me in and I’ll let her live. Let me in!" It shrieked at her closed eyes and suddenly  Stiles’ body goes slack and she stops struggling.

 

"Oliver."  Came a soft, commanding voice.   The restraints on Stiles broke. Oliver stops and steps back in fear. The Nogitsune now in Stiles’ body walks toward him, takes the drill from his slackened hands and after considering it, uses it to beat the young man over the head and knock him out. Stiles sighs down at the unconscious man and then begins to walk as Malia finally begins to stir.  

 

"Stiles?" Came her confused voice.  The Nogitsune did nothing but smirk and leave her tied to the chair as she walked out.

 

The memories swirled once more sending the Hale Pack on it’s way to another memory.  Their Nogitsune tour guide was bouncing on her heels, a manic smile stretching her dead, cracked face.  "Here comes the fun."  Came her high pitched, excited laughter which grated and stabbed.

 

The world solidified in a classroom as Kira’s father was caught unaware by the creature wearing Stiles’ face.  She watched as the man used one of his text books to flatten a fly that had been bothering him.

 

"Coming in on a Saturday. Now _that’s_ dedication." She slowly made her way into the classroom, stopping by the bookcase near the door to glance at the titles there.  "Where’s she hiding them?"

 

Mr. Yukimura stayed at his desk.  "I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ms. Stilinski."

 

She hummed.  "Ms. Stilinski."  She mused, "I think we both know that I’m not Stiles.  Haven’t been for a while actually.  Now.  Where are they?  Her little knives?  Daggers? I know what they are.  Physical representation of her tails--however the hell that works."  Stiles then begins to knock down the books one by one as she stares down the teacher.  

 

The man stood straight still feigning nonchalance.  "Maybe you’d like to do some reading on it.  I can direct you to the section on Japanese mythology in the library."

 

"No. No, I’d like to talk to you." She reassured him.  "The older the tail, the stronger the Oni. Am I right?  I know there’s one left. I know it’s the strongest."  She pressed.

 

"Unfortunately, I still don’t know what you’re referring to."

 

Stiles narrowed her eyes at him as she walked up to his desk.  "You’ll talk."  She informed him confidently.  A smirk crossed her lips as she lifted the textbook and the fly flew up and directly into Mr. Yukimura's mouth. The man started to cough and choke. "They _always_ talk."

 

Laura and her pack were forced to watch as Stiles stood over the man choking and clutching at his chest and throat, her face enraptured as she watched his struggles.  Eventually, Laura couldn’t tell how much time had passed but eventually Mr. Yukimura folded and Stiles got the information she was looking for.  She strode over to the bookcase and opened one to reveal a book with multiple slots cut out of it’s pages.  The book was empty so she slammed it closed and threw it behind her and she was gone, leaving a choking professor gasping on the floor.

 

She made her way to her home and up inside of her room.  Laura blanched at the mess that had become of Stiles’ room.  There were papers and pictures covering every single crevasse of all four walls and they were all connected by long red strands of string.  And they were all coming from across the room and tied around a pair of scissors that were stabbed into the center of her bed.  She watched the Nogitsune saunter into Stiles’ bedroom and look around, a smirk on her face as she took in the chaos.  After she did that, she sat on her bed and looked up towards the far left corner and waved.  Laura looked up and saw that there was a camera there.  She had a feeling that it was new due to how shiny it was and she began to wonder just how much sleepwalking Stiles had done that they hadn’t seen through her memories.

 

After, she stood up and began to walk out of the door when her steps faltered and she froze briefly before turning around to grab a chess set.  Laura noticed that the chess pieces still had the sticky notes from when Stiles had tried to describe the world of the supernatural to her father.  Laura watched as Stiles set down the board on the bed near the scissors and began to frantically rearrange the board.  She pulled sticky notes off various pieces and put them on other pieces and she removed other pieces entirely.  Now the board had Derek’s name on the black King that was standing surrounded by black pawns labeled as Peter, Aiden, and Ethan.  He is heavily defended but remains one move away from checkmate by the white Knight with Allison’s name.  Isaac’s name is on a black pawn but it is set on the bed, away from the board.  As Stiles tried to move another piece, her hand froze and then she was standing and walking out the room at a quick pace.

 

Memories swirled and reassembled with Stiles standing in Derek’s future self’s loft.  She was staring out the large window as the door behind her screeched open and in walked the Sheriff.  Stiles turned slowly to face him, "Hey Dad."

 

The Sheriff took a couple more steps in and he let his handcuffs dangle from one of his hands.  Stiles’ eyes filled with tears.  "You want to handcuff me?"

 

"If my daughter is still in there, if there’s still a part of her standing here in front of me then she’ll put these on willingly."  The Sheriff’s voice was soft as he stepped closer to her.  "And she’ll come with us because she knows we’re here to protect her from herself and from others."

 

Stiles held out her wrists towards her father and allowed him to handcuff her.

 

Once the Sheriff clicked the handcuffs in place he looked up and saw that the defeated expression she had worn a moment ago was no longer there.  "You’re not my daughter."

 

Stiles gave a slow shake of the head as she snapped the handcuffs in half easily.

 

In that moment Allison, Chris, and Derek entered the loft.

 

All four surrounded Stiles and she only stood there watching them with a smirk.

 

Allison pulled out a taser and shot it at Stiles but she caught it in mid-air, the electricity sparking.  Then she pulled it from Allison’s hands and threw the entire contraption away until it smacked into the wall.  Next came a roar from Derek as he threw himself at Stiles.  She didn’t even react exact to grab his closest arm to turn and tweek it behind his back and then she whirled and threw him into one of the columns of his loft.  Laura flinched in commiseration.  But she flinched even more when she heard the cocking of a gun.

 

She turned alongside Stiles to see that Chris Argent had a gun pointed at her.  Laura’s mom growled out a heated ‘Argents’ but Laura didn’t pay attention, too focused on Stiles.  She watched as the Sheriff then turned to Chris and pulled his own gun out and pointed it at Argent’s head.  

 

"Argent, listen to me.  Don’t do this."  Even in pain and on the ground, Derek tried to defend Stiles.

 

"Why not? I’ve done it before." Chris explained.  "Werewolves, Berserkers. I can easily add a Nogitsune to the list."

 

"You’re not going to shoot my daughter." The Sheriff grit out.

 

Chris still had his gun on Stiles.  "You said it yourself, Sheriff.  That’s _not_ your daughter."

 

"Put it down!"

 

Stiles’ features shifted into distress, "Dad, he’s going to shoot me.  He’s going to kill me, Dad."

 

"Don’t listen." Grit out Chris.

 

"Put the gun down!  Now!  Do it!  Put it down!"  The Sheriff stepped towards him, his grip shifting to one hand as he leveled the barrel at Argent’s head.

 

Stiles turned to Chris then with a wicked expression.  "Pull the trigger.  Come on."

 

"Listen to me, you put the gun down now!" The Sheriff ordered.

 

"Shoot me." She taunted, expression alight.

 

"Put the gun down now!"

 

"Dad." Allison’s voice jumped in. No one paid her attention.

 

"Shoot me!"  Stiles screamed at Chris who was shaking, the gun still pointed at her.

 

"Put the gun down!"

 

"SHOOT ME!"  Stiles shouted, the veins in her throat pulsating.

 

"Argent, put it down!"

 

"Strife." This time Allison caught the attention of multiple people: Derek’s future self, Laura’s pack, and even that of the Nogitsune herself.

 

"Stop! Stop it!" Allison shouted. "This is what she _wants_ . This is _exactly_ what she wants."

 

Stiles smiled, "Not exactly. I was kind of hoping Scotty would be here. But I’m glad you all have your guns out." She shared as she turned to glance out the window just as the sun finished setting all the way. "Because you’re not here to kill me.  You’re here to protect me."  The Oni suddenly manifested and passed through the window.  The Argents, Derek’s future self, and the Sheriff all took up protective positions around her, their weapons out and already firing as the Oni pulled swords out of thin air.

 

Stiles turned and walked out leaving the group to fight her battle as she disappeared in a puff of black smoke.  The Pack found themselves transported along with Stiles into the basement of Eichen House.  Laura was wondering why the spirit would bring themselves back here but she quickly had her answer as Ms. Yukimura crouched within the hole in the wall that housed the body of the original Nogitsune.

 

"Why that particular kanji?  Why ‘self’?"  Stiles’ voice caused the woman to jump but not face her.

 

"To signify that he died as himself. Because Rhys wasn’t a _monster_ .  Not like _you_."

 

A small smile graced Stiles’ lips.  "If I’m such a monster, why’d you call off the Oni?"  She countered, stepping closer as the woman turned to face her.  "What happened to the woman who called out for chaos, strife and pain to descend upon everyone and everything? What happened?"

 

"I don’t want that anymore."

 

Stiles nodded slightly. "I do." Stiles suddenly shoved the woman to the floor and took possession of the last tail.  "Did you bring this here thinking you could hide it from me?"  Stiles held it aloft as she stared the woman down.  "Bad idea." And she stabbed herself in the stomach.

 

Stiles fell to the ground.  Ms. Yukimura looked horrified.  "What have you done?"

 

"Chaos is come again." Stiles claimed, her lips now heavily parched and her face terribly pale, deep grey circles under her eyes. A swarm of flies came swarming out of the cut and once the cloud of flies dispersed, Stiles was gone as well.  

 

The group found themselves yanked from darkness suddenly as Stiles jerked upright and grabbed a hold of one of the twin’s throats with a smirk while he and Scott tried to hold her back.  Inexplicably her hand falls and her entire body becomes lax.  She looks towards Deaton.  "Kanima venom.  Nice touch."

 

The twin roared at her even as Scott pushed him back but Stiles still had a smirk on her face as she looked at him.  "You know how they say that twins get a _feeling_ when the other one’s in pain?  You didn’t lose that talent, too, did you?" She taunted. "Oh, I hope not. You’re going to need it." The twin and Scott gave her a blank look and Stiles rolled her eyes with a put out expression. "Okay, I’ll give a little hint.  Ethan’s at the school."

 

"Go." Scott told Aiden.

 

Stiles let out a sinister laugh.  "Oh, I hope he gets there in time. I like the twins. Short tempers. Homicidal compulsions.  They’re a lot more _fun_ than you bakemono trying to save the world every day."

 

"Doc, you brought something to paralyze her body.  You got anything for her mouth?" Ms. McCall asked as she crossed her arms over her chest.

 

"Yes, I do." He pulled out black duct tape and tore off a chunk that he affixed to Stiles’ mouth.  She watched in amusement but then started shouting through the improvised muzzle before she began to laugh.

 

Laura and her pack watched as the pack from Stiles’ past paced and threw out ideas on how to save Stiles but came up empty.  Scott finally broke the self-imposed silence they all had fallen into.  "How much longer do you think we have?"

 

“I wish I knew.”  Sighed Deaton.

 

“But if we don’t figure out something soon, we’re going to need to find a better place to keep her.”

 

“I think we’re grossly underestimating the danger here.  She might be paralyzed, but it still feels like she’s got us right in the palm of her hand.”

 

Everyone took the moment to look over at the paralyzed Stiles with varying expressions.

 

Nurse McCall was the first person to actually approach Stiles and it was only to tend to her wound.  Her mouth was still taped shut, but she started to sniffle which caused her to look up in time to see a lone tear fall from Stiles’ eye and down her face.

 

“Stiles?”

 

She gave her a small nod, a broken expression on her face which dropped as Ms. McCall removed the tape.  

 

“Really, Melissa? I shed one tear?  That’s all it takes?”  She taunted, the woman before her looking shamefaced.  “Come on. You can’t _crumble_ that easily. How are you going to hold up when Scott knows the _truth_?”

 

“What?” The question had clearly thrown Ms. McCall.

 

Stiles leaned forward slightly, her dead eyes taking in the woman before her.  “When he finds out why his dad _really_ left...you know she overheard it, right? You had no idea. You called Stilinski right after it happened.  You didn’t tell Scott, but you told the Sheriff, but Stiles heard it _like she hears everything_ .”   Stiles’ voice turned into a whisper.  “But you want to know why she never told Scott? Because she knew that Scott would _never_ forgive you. She knew how much Scott would _hate_ you.”  

 

“This isn’t you Stiles.” The woman choked out.

 

“It is now.” Stiles replied, eyes wild and rimmed in silver.  Laura heard a break in her voice as she said it and she had a feeling that it wasn’t just the Nogitsune talking then.  Before Stiles could say anything else, Ms. McCall returned the tape, once more silencing her.  She finished cleaning her wound and then left the room, leaving Stiles surrounded by various member of her pack but none within touching distance.

 

Deaton, Scott, and Lydia were brainstorming in the next room in sight of Stiles and Laura listened in.  “But the scroll said to change her body.”

 

“That’s _if_ I translated it correctly.  We’re looking for a cure in something that might actually be nothing more than a proverb or a metaphor.”

 

Lydia jumped in, “What about her magic?  You said that Stiles was super powerful right and that she had a connection with the Nemeton because it chose her?”

 

“The mark on her wrist has disappeared since her possession.  I believe it is the Nemeton working to shield itself and it’s lands.  Along with Ms. Stilinski.  The Nemeton may have chosen her to guard it but both are weakening.  I believe that the connection has been either temporarily severed or blocked.”  

 

 _So that explains Stiles’ magic_.  

 

Lydia nodded, “So now we’re back to just changing Stiles into a werewolf?”

 

“And what if she doesn’t want it?  She’s _never_ asked to be a werewolf.”  Scott pointed out.

 

“What if it _saves_ her life?” Lydia fired back.

 

“What if it _kills_ her? What if she hates us for changing her even if it saves her?” He looked at Stiles, his face worried. “What if she dies instead of changes--do you want to be the one to tell her father we killed his only daughter?  And do you really want to say that we did it to save her?  Because I don’t.”

 

“The venom is not going to last long.  Something _needs_ to be done sooner rather than later.” Deaton intoned in the silence that followed.

 

“I can try calling Derek again.”  Scott offered.

 

Lydia reluctantly threw in, “Maybe we should call someone else.”

 

Lydia made her phone call and the packs both stood waiting for whoever she called to arrive.  When the older version of Peter came through the door, Scott quickly jumped up. “No way!”

 

“Really Scott? Must you act like a child?” He asked unamused as he made his way closer to where Stiles was seated. “She doesn’t look like she would survive a slap across the face at the moment.  Much less the bite of a werewolf.”  He said as Stiles glared at him venomously behind the duct tape.  

 

“You don’t think it would work?” Scott sounded both worried and relieved at the prospect.

 

“This is more a war of the mind than the body.  There are better methods to winning this battle.”

 

“What kind of methods exactly?”  Lydia pushed as she stepped closer.

 

Peter turned to face them and the smile on his face disquieted Laura.  She had never seen her Uncle look so gleeful, so un-Peter like.  Where was the kind Uncle that was currently standing behind her?  Where was the man who teased Derek and laughed with Laura and loved his wife and coming child?  Where was that man because the one standing before her was a stranger. “We’re going to get into her head.”

 

Laura didn’t listen as Peter began to explain to the group what exactly he meant by that--she already knows.  She remembered what Stiles had said to her mother--she knows what they’re going to do.  Instead, she stepped closer to Stiles to observe her.  Her skin was pale, paler than it usually was.  Her eyes were sunken and the amber color was gone; instead it was replaced with some sickly pale green color.  There were deep bruises under her eyes that seemed to be getting darker as the hours pass by.  While the group was talking, Stiles’ eyes roved over all of them, a smirk clearly present beneath the thick black duct tape.  

 

Laura looked up suddenly at the group as Stiles’ body made a jolting move to get up.  

 

Deaton looked worried--or at least as worried as Deaton could look as he turned his head towards Scott.  “We’re running out of time.”

 

Scott nodded and stepped around Stiles’ form on the couch until he was behind it as Lydia sat to Stiles’ left.  Laura forced herself to watch as Scott extended his claws and then plunged them into Stiles and Lydia’s necks.  Their eyes went large in pain and then the world was yanked out from under Laura and her family.

 

They were suddenly back in the never ending white room where they had first come across Stiles and her alter self.  And at the center of the room with it’s torn roots sat Stiles and the Nogitsune on the Nemeton.  They were different though.  They were the Stiles and Nogitsune of _this_ time.  The creature was wearing it’s own bandaged face as he sat crouched atop the Nemeton while Stiles sat in jeans and a red/black plaid shirt with her head bowed to face the board between them.   

 

Laura turned to look at their guide and she noticed that she wasn’t the only one.  Her mother and father were looking at her with blank faces while Peter was looking at her speculatively.  Derek was the only one still focused on Stiles.  She watched him take a shuffling step towards Stiles’ past form, stop briefly, and then continue pushing forward until he stood beside her as he looked between her, the board, and Stiles’ current enemy.  Laura looked away and back towards the Nogitsune of the present.  She looked bored, her face even more stark in the bright lights of this...purgatory as she had called it.  

 

Talia’s voice was stern, “Why have you taken us back to this place?”

 

After rolling her eyes and affecting a bored expression she looked at Laura’s mother.  “Because I only can show you what Stiles and I see since we’re walking through her memories.  What happens to Scott and Lydia happens to them as they traverse the obstacle course Stiles and I designed.”

 

Peter moved forward, “What do you mean ‘Stiles _and_ you designed’?”

 

She turned her roving eyes towards him.  “I mean,”  She drew out, “That Stiles and I have been playing a game.  Haven’t you pieced that together yet?  Hasn’t that clicked in that dead skull of yours?  This whole thing has been a game.  Stiles makes a move and then I make one.  Stiles, the protector, the novice, the black tile player.  Me, the trickster, the expert, the white tile player.  We move the pieces how we see fit.  We started a game and Stiles’ pack are the pieces.  Why do you think Isaac’s chess piece is off the table?  I fried him.  Why is Derek’s older self surrounded, near checkmate?  Because I designed it so.  Why is Derek still protected even by wolves he should have no reason to trust?  Because Stiles crafted it to be so.”  The Nogitsune stepped forward, her eyes blazing as she came closer.  “Every move that her pathetic excuse for a pack has made has been scripted and played out by us this entire time.  Their failures, their successes, their _deaths_ .   _This is just a game._ ”

 

Talia roared at her and advanced but Robert grasped her arm to keep her from attacking the smirking girl.  “My son’s life is not a game for your amusement.”

 

A thudding noise had everyone’s attention snapping to a set of doors that hadn’t been there before.  Standing there out of breath but alive were the forms of Lydia and Scott.  It was easy to tell when they spotted the Nemeton and who rested upon it because they began to run towards it while shouting Stiles’ name.  It didn’t take the two long to realize that their shouts were ineffectual and that they were going nowhere fast and eventually stopped to catch their breaths.  

 

Despite the distance that separate the pair from the rest of the group, Laura and her family heard what they were saying.  It appeared that the words did not reach the Stiles of the past however as she still sat on the Nemeton focused on the board before her.

 

Laura tuned into the conversation just in time to hear Lydia’s, “How do wolves signal their location to the rest of the pack?”

 

Scott transformed, his golden eyes glowing as he loosed a deep roar that sent the floor of the room vibrating.  Laura whipped around to watch the scene on the Nemeton and found her breath catching as Stiles finally, _finally_ looked up right at Scott and Lydia.  Then she turns to look at the Nogitsune who appears to be waiting for something.  Laura sees Stiles take in a gasping breath and then Stiles sweeps her arms along the entire board sending the pieces flying as she stares straight at the creature before her, her expression hardened.  As the pieces flew, the Nogitsune opened its maw and released an earth shattering roar that shook the foundations of the white room.  The noise sent the wolves to their knees and suddenly everyone, including Scott and Lydia were thrown back into the McCall living room.  

 

But Stiles is still unconscious, unmoving.  Laura feels her heart freeze. And then harden as Peter’s future self suddenly grabs Lydia’s arm and shakes her demanding to know some name.  Lydia refuses at first and the confusion of the rest of the people in the room is palpable but suddenly she mutters the name ‘Malia’ and then all hell breaks loose.

 

From the couch came a hacking sound and then Stiles’ body jerked upwards, no longer paralyzed as her hands fumbled for a corner of the duct tape, her hacking becoming worse.  Once the tape was off, Stiles’ hands reached into her mouth and began to pull out a long, soaked, dirty strand of the bandages that had covered the Nogitsune’s body, her own collapsing to her knees on the living room floor.  Laura could hear someone retching behind her as Stiles’ body contracted, her own retching noises echoing in the quiet of the living room.  The strand kept coming, longer and longer until Stiles was left heaving on the ground with a large pile there just in front of her face.  

 

Laura and her family watched as Stiles backpedalled and fell on her ass until her back came up against the couch when black smoke rose from the piles of gauze while a bandaged hand rose up out of it.  Stiles’ expression was horrified as she watched the figure of the Nogitsune climb out of the pile she had just thrown up.  When the figure pulled itself fully from the bandages it lunged towards Stiles who flinched until the figure was grabbed hard by Peter and Scott and dragged until it was thrown in a recliner where the two attempted to hold it down.  

 

“Hold her!”  Scott barked at Peter.

 

“I’m trying!”

 

At this the creature in their arms went slack and Scott suddenly stopped struggling as well.  Peter remained holding the creature but looked at Scott as though he was crazy.  Scott grabbed the bandages that covered the face and began to frantically unravel the person beneath.  Laura’s breath, along with those of her family whooshed out as Stiles’ terrified, despondent face was revealed underneath.  

 

“Scott?”  Stiles’ voice was small, tears in her eyes, hair plastered to her pale, sunken face.  Her eyes began to search the room and suddenly they were panicked as she faced him once more.  “Where are they?  Scott, where are they?”  

 

Laura’s blood ran cold as she turned slowly.  The person wearing Stiles’ face was gone.  And so was Lydia.

 

The world fell into darkness once more.  Everyone turned to face the Nogitsune as she released a heavy sigh.  “So,” she drawled, “this is where things get kind of tricky.  Since there’s two of us now there’s twice as many memories.  So, have you ever heard of split screen?”  She stopped and tilted her head slightly before shaking it.  “Forget that.  I’m just gonna pile on the memories.  You’ll work out soon enough who’s who.  Good luck.”  She smirked and stepped back into the shadows which had begun to appear around the pack.

 

Ms. McCall was sitting beside a bed that Stiles was lying on.  The girl was even paler than she was earlier and she looked exhausted.  Ms. McCall used a pen light to check Stiles’ eyes and when she moved her hands lower to grasp Stiles’ hand she flinched.  Stiles’ expression dropped even more but she slowly extended her hand towards her with a pitiful smile.  After taking Stiles’ pulse, Ms. McCall pulled a short distance away, a strained smile on her features.  

 

“Well...medically you seem okay.”  She announced.  “You’re definitely a real person.”

 

Stiles nodded silently.  “Ok. I’m real...so am I really me?”

 

Scott came in at that moment and Stiles looked towards him.  “Are they here?”  

 

“Yeah.”

 

Stiles visibly struggled to sit up so Scott came forward as his mother backed up to give them space.  “Let’s do this then.”  When nobody moved beyond Scott helping Stiles stand she looked around her, “Guys, we have to do this.”

 

Scott made a reluctant expression but began to slowly tow Stiles out of the room and down the stairs until they came to a halt in the living room where Ms. Yukimura stood.  Once Stiles caught sight of her, she pushed off Scott and made the rest of the way towards her on shaky legs.  

 

Laura watched the two stare at one another, scanning from head to toe before Ms. Yukimura said, “Do you recognize me?”

 

Stiles nodded once.  

 

“Stop!”  Kira rushed into the room to stare her mother down.  The woman didn’t even glance towards her.

 

“It’s okay.  I’m the one who asked her to come.”  Stiles whispered.

 

Kira took a half step forward.  “But Stiles--”

 

“It’s okay, Kira.”  She smiled slightly at her.

 

Kira didn’t look convinced but she stood in her spot and pivoted towards her mother.  “Mom, please don’t do this to her.”

 

Ms. Yukimura spared her daughter a quick look and then refocused on Stiles with intensity as suddenly two of the Oni appeared and grabbed Stiles by the neck.

 

She didn’t fight but Laura could see that her muscles bunched before slackening, a gasp escaping her lips.  The creatures released their grip suddenly and vanished while Stiles fell to the ground shivering horribly.  Scott and Kira rushed towards her.

 

“Look behind her ear.”  Ms. Yukimura commanded.

 

Scott glanced up at her and then down as he carefully turned Stiles until he could look behind her ear.   _So that’s what that was_.  Laura had seen it briefly while the two had been shopping and she had wondered what it meant and about it’s placement but hadn’t felt comfortable enough to ask about it.  She sees now that it wasn’t a voluntary process and was quite glad she hadn’t asked then.

 

“It worked.”  Scott breathed as he helped Stiles to her feet.

 

“So I’m actually me then?”

 

“More you than the Nogitsune.”  Ms. Yukimura corrected.

 

Kira stepped forward.  “Can the Oni find her?”

 

“Tomorrow night.  It’s too close to dawn now.”

 

“Can they kill her?”  Stiles pushed.

 

“Depends how strong she is.”

 

Stiles stepped forward, her face worried.  “What about Lydia?  Why would she take her?”

 

Ms. Yukimura looked at her. “She would only take her for an advantage.”

 

Scott stepped forward then.  “You mean her power?”

 

A nod.  “The power of a Banshee.”

 

The world dropped out from under Laura and her family sending everyone gasping.  The floor came rushing up to meet them and Laura landed crouched, the rest of her family seemingly not as lucky as she hears groans from behind her.  She unfolds herself slowly and looks around.  

 

She sees a long path that stretches in front and behind her.  They were in some kind of tunnel.  There were dull white lights interspersed throughout--just enough to chase away some of the shadows but not enough to brighten the tunnels.  The walls were so close together that she could extend both her hands and touch them with room to spare.  

 

There was a sound of rapid gasping and shuffling and suddenly Lydia came into view.  Her hands were skimming the walls as she frantically shuffled forward.  When the light caught her face Laura could see tears falling from her wide, terrified eyes.  

 

Slow steps began to sound and soon a shadow appears from behind Lydia walking at a sedate pace.  Lydia shuffles right through Laura and from the gasps behind her, she did the same to her family members.  Suddenly from in front of Laura came the chilling voice of Stiles.  

 

“Can you hear them?  Louder than usual, isn’t it?  Well that’s because a lot of bad things happened down here.”

 

Stiles walked with her hands behind her back, sauntering after a fleeing Lydia who refused to answer.  “What are the voices telling you?  Are they saying that Stiles is dying? She is you know.”  The figure wearing Stiles’ face taunted.

 

Lydia finally shouted back at the figure.  “Then what do you need me for?  You think I can tell you anything?”

 

The Not Stiles chuckled darkly as she continued to advance.  “Oh I know you can.”

 

Lydia whirled to face her.  “I’m not telling you anything!”

 

“You won’t have to,”  She smirked.  “You’ll be _screaming_.”

 

The world was ripped out from beneath them again sending everyone tumbling until they fell into the McCall living room once more as Stiles’ body suddenly flew off the couch.  Her eyes were wild as she took in her surroundings and she flinched heavily when Scott suddenly appeared in her view.  

 

“Hey, you okay?”  He asked, worried.

 

“What happened?  How long was I out?”  Stiles was in a panic.  She started counting her fingers before Scott covered them.  

 

“Just a couple of hours.  You should sit down.”

 

“Where’s my dad?”  She asked instead, still standing.

 

“He’s at Eichen House questioning everyone. Looking for Meredith.”  He stepped closer to her.  “I promised him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

 

Stiles nodded slightly. “Okay,”  She turned towards him suddenly, “what about the others?”

 

“Allison, Isaac, and the twins are all looking for Lydia.”

 

Stiles shivered, rubbing her arms.  “It’s starting to feel like we’re waiting for a ransom call.”

 

“We’ll find her.”  Stiles turned away from him and snatched up a black jacket that was hanging off the back of the couch and shrugged it on hurriedly with jerking motions.  “You alright?”

 

“Yeah.”  Stiles said as she adjusted the jacket, it was too large on her.  “I don’t know why, I just can’t seem to get warm.”

 

Scott moved towards her gesturing towards the couch.  “Maybe you should sit down. Take it easy.”  When he touched Stiles’ hand, black lines went shooting up his own hand but Stiles jerked away.  “You’re in pain.”

 

Stiles looked away and shuffled out of Scott’s reach.  “It’s not that bad. Just more like a dull ache.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Sort of everywhere.”  Stiles shrugged.  Her face had continued to pale however and she was shrinking inwards, holding herself as protectively as she could without crossing her arms.  Laura didn’t have to be present in the memory to tell that Stiles was lying.

 

Scott stepped towards her again and took her hand despite Stiles’ flinch which made Laura’s hackles raise.  He pulled back quickly enough though.  “Dude, you’re freezing.”  He stepped closer but this time didn’t touch her, his voice lowered.  “Tell me the truth. How much does it really hurt?

 

Stiles looked up at him, her eyes rimmed silver and her mouth parted just as Scott’s phone started to vibrate.  Scott immediately looked down and muttered,  “It’s Kira. Hey, what’s up.”  Laura ignored the rest of the conversation to look at Stiles instead.  She watched her mouth shut and her jaw clench alongside her fists before it all smoothed out into a blank expression, her already dulled eyes dulling more.

 

The world slipped again sending the pack hurtling back to the tunnels once more.  

 

Lydia appeared to have found an exit but she was stopped from moving forward by a set of steel bars.  She was leaning her head against them, panting.  “They’ll find me.  My friends are going to find me.”  Lydia suddenly releases a deep groan which ended just as quickly as it began as the Nogitsune appeared behind her.

 

“You think so?  I myself was kind of wondering what they’re doing right now.  Are they _really_ spending every moment looking for you?”  She taunted as she started to close the distance between herself and Lydia’s back.  “Or...are they waiting for nightfall?  Focusing on some hopeless gesture to pass the time?”

 

“What do you want?”  Lydia spat out.

 

“More.”

 

“More what?”

 

“The trickster stories are all about food, Lydia.  The Coyote, the Raven, the Fox.”  With each word she steps even closer to Lydia’s back.  Her voice is soft, threatening.  “They’re all hungry.  I’m the same.  I just crave something a little...different.  I eat what you feel.”  She’s right against Lydia’s back and the girl whimpers in fear which increased as Stiles’ body presses Lydia’s into the gate as she hisses in her ear, “And I’m _insatiable_.”

 

The world shifted again and suddenly they were with Stiles as she sat driving Isaac and Scott in her jeep.  Laura growled fruitlessly about having Lydia removed from her sight but focused on the new memory as Scott asked Stiles if she was okay.

 

“Yeah.”  Stiles nodded, smiling slightly.  “Yeah.  You don’t have to worry about me.”

 

Scott didn’t look convinced, nor did Isaac, and looking at Stiles herself, she couldn’t blame them for their skepticism.  

 

“Alright, I’ll say it.”  Isaac chipped in from the back, “You look like you’re dying.”  Stiles’ eyes flickered back before facing forward once more.  “You’re pale, thin, and it looks like you’re getting worse.  And we’re all sitting here thinking it.  When we find the other you is she gonna look like she’s getting better?”

 

The car was silent as Stiles’ eyes shuttered.  Her tone was frank, devoid of emotion, “You mean if she dies, do I die?  I don’t care.  Just so long as no one else dies because of me.”  She glances at Scott briefly before returning her eyes to the road.  “I remember everything I did, Scott.  I remember pushing that sword into you.  I remember twisting it.”

 

Scott paled at that and Laura watched as he shook his head slightly.  “It wasn’t you.”  She wishes his voice held more conviction as Stiles’ shoulders tense and then drop.

 

“Yeah, but I remember it.  You guys gotta promise me.”  She glanced between the two of them quickly.  “You can’t let anyone else get hurt because of me.”

 

The world shifted again throwing everyone from the moving car once more to the tunnels except they were now in some kind of endcap.  There were still bars surrounding the exit but now the space was lit brightly throwing both figures into stark relief.

 

Lydia was watching the Nogitsune shuffle it’s feet and she was the one to smirk this time.  “You’re nervous aren’t you?  You know they’re coming.  You know they’re going to _kill_ you.”

 

The Nogitsune stopped it’s nervous movements to stare at her.  “Well that’s exactly why I’m keeping you so close.”

 

The world flew out beneath their feet sending them all reeling.  They were no longer in the car with the trio but were instead standing outside a decrepit fence with a half hung sign that read ‘Oak Creek Detention Centre’ that was hanging by a thread.  At some point Kira and Allison had arrived.  The group of five were surrounding the gate in a loose circle.  

 

Scott looked at them all.  “We’ve done this before, guys.  A couple of weeks ago we were standing around just like this and we saved Malia, remember? That was a total stranger. This is Lydia.”

 

“I’m here to save my best friend.”  Allison stated, tightening her hand around her bow.

 

“I came to save mine.”  Scott said while looking at Stiles.

 

“I just didn’t feel like doing any homework.”  Joked Isaac.

 

Stiles chuckled, “Thanks, Baby Beta, feeling the love.”  She smiled at him, taking the sting from her words.

 

The group nodded at each other and then turned and walked through the gate.  They came to a stop as they found two Oni and Ms. Yukimura blocking their way.  “Kira, turn around and go home. Take your friends with you.”

 

“I can’t.”  She stepped past the rest of the group to square up with her mother.  “When I looked at the game I realized who I was actually playing. _You._  Call them off.”  She gestured to the Oni.

 

Her mother looked at her pityingly which only grew as she looked towards Stiles’ weakening form.  “You think you could take her alive? You think you can save her?”

 

“What if we can?”  Kira pushed.

 

Ms. Yukimura shook her head, “I tried something like it 70 years ago. Your friend is gone.”

 

“Are you sure? Or if Stiles doesn’t have to die. Maybe Rhys didn’t have to die either?”  She challenged.

 

Ms. Yukimura’s expression tightened.  “I see I’m no longer the Fox now, Kira.” She glanced at the Katana in her hand and gestured towards it. “You are. But the Nogitsune is still my demon to bury.”  With that the two Oni beside her vanished.

 

The world shifted dragging the Hale Pack along with it to reform in that strange room again.

 

Lydia’s head rose.  “They’re here.”  She hissed at the creature.  “And I don’t need to scream to know that they’re going to kill you.”

 

“Good.”  Snapped the Nogitsune.  “Because that’s exactly why I brought you.  I needed to know when they’d be close enough.  When my own death was closing in.”  

 

Five Oni appeared without warning in the room surrounding the Nogitsune.  Lydia ducked behind one and plastered herself to the exit as she and the invisible Hale family watched the events before them unfold.  Stiles pulled a black dagger out and brandished it in front of Lydia.  “Because only when they’re close can I do this.”  And she snapped it in half.  The ground shook and the Nogitsune and the Oni vanished leaving Lydia alone.  

 

When the Nogitsune disappeared, she also took along the Hale Pack who appeared just in time to see it confront the future Hale Pack and Ms. Yukimura.  

 

“What does that mean?”  Kira asked as the ground shook.

 

“It means there’s been a change in ownership.  Now they belong to me.”  She taunted and the five Oni suddenly drew their swords and began to attack the pack as the Nogitsune stood aside observing.  

 

Suddenly everything for Laura started to blur.  The Hale Pack was caught between two sets of memories and everything began to become jumbled.  The memories fighting and overriding one another.  Snarling and shouting and running and words all slamming together.  

 

Scott and Stiles found Lydia while the Nogitsune stood watching the pack get cut down.  They were losing.  Isaac was on the ground bleeding, their weapons weren’t working.  Lydia, Scott, and Stiles were frantically running but Stiles was falling behind.  Lydia waved Scott forward as she started to help Stiles who was starting to fall.  The Nogitsune stopped smirking when one of Allison’s arrows found it’s home in an Oni’s chest and it burst to dust and her smirk reappeared as Allison was impaled through the abdomen.  Stiles collapsed into Lydia and against the wall and just before she passed out she heard the Banshee shriek out “Allison!”  The Nogitsune stands listening to the gasping breaths of the dying girl as she repeats useless refrains about love and telling her father something and she disappears after Chris Argent runs up to the gate and his face falls devastated as Allison stops breathing.  A smirk comes and then the Nogitsune and it’s new warriors vanish.

 

And the world was black.

 

Stiles was suddenly sitting on another couch.  It appeared to be the Yukimura’s Laura noted as Kira’s mother handed Stiles a mug of steaming liquid.  “Here.  It’ll calm you.”

 

She glanced at it dubiously before she took it.  “What is it?”

 

“Tea.”

 

“Like magic tea or…”

 

She got a look.  “No.  It’s camomile tea.  Drink it.”

 

Kira sat on the arm of the couch and looked at her mother.  “She’s not safe here.”

 

“She’s not safe anywhere.”  She countered.

 

Stiles looked at Kira’s mother.  “But Allison killed one of them.”  She tripped over Allison’s name but everyone was graceful enough not to acknowledge it.  “Doesn’t that mean something?  She killed an Oni.  Is that actually possible?”

 

Ms. Yukimura looked frustrated.  “I’m not even sure how.”

 

“But she did it.”  Pressed Kira.  “She _killed_ one of them.”

 

Her mom clapped back at her, “And then they killed _her_.”

 

Stiles flinched violently and she stood up to wander away from the mother and daughter pair.  Laura watched her progress and she knew she was not the only one.  Some moments in silence passed and when Stiles spoke again her back was still to them, her tone flat.  “Allison’s dead.  And now the only good thing is that it looks like I’m dying too.”  

 

It was Laura’s turn to flinch this time and she heard Derek release a pained whine at Stiles’ words.  Laura wondered if this was the worse that the Nogitsune had been talking about or if that was still to come.  The thought hurt Laura’s heart.

 

Ms. Yukimura jumped in at the next silence that followed Stiles’ quiet admission.  “She made a powerful move by splitting the two of you.”

 

Stiles finally turned towards the room’s other occupants.  Her right hand ran through her hair, “So what’s our move?”

 

“At this point we need a divine move.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“In the game of Go it’s what we call a truly inspired or out of the box move.”  Ms. Yukimura explained.  “The Nogitsune has had sente, the advantage, until this point.  What you need at this point is a divine move to turn the game around.”

 

“Okay,”  Stiles breathed out, her right hand rubbing the back of her neck vigorously.  “So is anyone feeling divinely inspired?”

 

Kira turned towards her mother suddenly.  “Mom you said you trapped it in a glass jar, right?”

 

“It wasn’t the jar that trapped it.”  She revealed.  “It was where I buried it.”

 

Stiles’ left arm jerked slightly as her head shot up towards her.  “The Nemeton.”

 

She nodded.  “A place I don’t know much about.”

 

“Who does?”  Kira questioned.

 

Stiles looked between them both and sighed heavily, her eyes fluttering closed, “Deaton.”

 

The memory shifted like normal and the family found themselves coasting through the memories how they had been before.  

 

Laura finds herself and her family standing inside of Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital where they see a version of Stiles clad in all black, eyes dead and dark purple bruises beneath them standing in front of a desk where a male nurse was stationed.

 

“Hi there.  Could you page Melissa McCall for me please?”  The lights begin to flicker heavily and before the confused man could answer, two Oni appeared on both sides of the Nogitsune.  As the man glanced frantically between the three, the one on the left of Stiles pulled out it’s sword and stabbed the man through the desk in his abdomen.  When the sword was yanked out the man fell to the floor dead and Stiles glanced at the Oni that had stabbed him.  “Well I guess I’ll just find her myself.”

 

The invisible pack was dragged after the Nogitsune as she and her Oni began to terrify the people in the hospital.  Stiles’ face was gleefully smirking as she stood under the flickering lights as every individual--man, woman, child, hospital worker, patient, or visitor was cut down before her.  Laura and her family watched in horror at the bloodshed.  They watched helplessly as this monster stood over the bodies and eventually walked over their corpses as though they were trash as she made her Oni slash their way through anyone who stood in her way.  

 

The world shifted forward, the bottom falling out beneath them once more.  The pack was jerked between the two sets of memories again.  This time they reformed to find themselves observing the group of teenagers that were to become the new Hale Pack.  Scott, Stiles, Lydia, and Kira stood outside the doors of the school.  Stiles was pale and leaning heavily against Lydia who was holding her up.  

 

Lydia was looking around, her head tilted as she held Stiles tight to her side.  “We’re running out of time.”  Stiles nodded.

 

Scott went to take a step towards the door but was stopped as Stiles reached out, her hand stopping short.  “Scott wait.”  

 

He stopped and looked at Stiles and so did the rest of the pack.  She glanced between them all, “I know what you’re all thinking.  If this works it might kill me too.  But even if it does, you have to go through with it.  Stick with the plan, okay?”

 

Everyone stared at her in silence before Scott took a stuttering step forward.  “The plan is to save you.  That’s the plan I’m going with.”  And with that he turned and pushed open the door, the pack both visible and not, following behind.  The whole group came to an abrupt halt however as everyone took in the inside of the high school.  No longer were there endless halls filled with lockers and shitty lighting.  No.  Now the inside looked like a snow covered garden, snow still falling.  

 

“Oh this is definitely not part of the plan.”  Stiles muttered.

 

The world shifted and suddenly they were outside the school once more only this time near the main stairwell leading to the athletic fields.  The Nogitsune was sitting, smirking, on the stairs as Derek’s older self and the twins approached, their eyes blazing red and blue respectively.  The two Oni from the hospital flash into existence on either side of Stiles a couple of stairs up from her.

 

Derek walks forward and places a carved wooden cylinder with the Hale triskele carved into the top on the ground before the creature and then he stepped back slightly.  

 

“Did you bring us a present?”  

 

Derek stared unmoved at the Nogitsune’s taunting.  “I brought two.”  The twins released roars but the Nogitsune still sat with her smirk.

 

“Ah the twin alpha rejects.  Tell me, do you two still have performance issues?”  She smirked at the twins, their growls rising.  “And you,”  She faced Derek, “You shouldn’t even _be_ an Alpha let alone a ‘True Alpha’.  Doesn’t _killing_ an innocent kind of make you ineligible?  You wanna know a secret Derbear?”

 

“Don’t call me that.”  He snarled but she ignored him.  

 

“The only reason you’re the way you are now isn’t because of ‘purity of heart’” she sneered, disgusted.  “You’re only the alpha now because the Nemeton and Stiles believed you to still be worthy of the position.  Even after all that shit you put her through, even after you ignored and abused her she’s _still_ saving your ass and those of your _pathetic_ pack.”  She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, “And now the _one_ person left who believes in you is dying.  I wonder if you can feel it?  Her weakening...her body failing even as her mind tries to frantically claw at any morsel of life.  Can you hear her screaming?   _I can_.”

 

Derek released a mighty roar and him and the twins rushed towards the Nogitsune and her guards.  The three met the Oni with clashes of swords and claws, snarls and roars as the Nogitsune stayed watching--a queen upon her throne of stone.  

 

The world rolled sending the Hale Pack away from the battle and back into the snowy garden.  Stiles, Scott, Lydia and Kira were standing in the garden as the bandaged form of the Nogitsune enters doing some odd imitation of the moon walk.  As every one of the small group glanced at each other, Laura found herself glad that finally it wasn’t just Stiles seeing the haunting figure.  

 

That small glimmer of hope she felt died a quick death as he pointed directly at Stiles and called out to her.  “Like I promised, Stiles.  We’re going to kill all of them.  One.  By.  One.”

 

Stiles was still shaking but she shoved Lydia behind her, her steps faltering but face set in determination as she glared at the bandaged figure.  

 

Scott stepped forward.  “What the hell is this?  Where are we?”

 

“Between life and death.”  It hissed.

 

“Bardo.”  Lydia said as she struggled to hold Stiles’ back up as she continued to shield her.

 

“But there are no peaceful spirits here, Lydia.”  The Nogitsune crooned before it turned its attentions once more to Stiles.  “You’re dying, Stiles.  And now everyone you love is dying too.”

  


“What.”  Stiles breathed and then she stood rigid.  Her eyes flared gold, a dull, sheen that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.  “What do you mean?”

 

A cruel, mocking chuckle.  “Your magic is of no use here.  The Nemeton decided to save itself by starving me...and you.  You’re powerless--without moves.”  It took another step towards Stiles until it came to the end of the arch it was standing under atop a raised platform.  “I’ve captured almost all the territories on the board, Stiles.  The hospital.  The Sheriff’s station.  And now the animal clinic.”  The Nogitsune tilted its bandaged head.  “Do you know the ritual of seppuku, Stiles?”

 

“No, and I don’t want to.”  Stiles grit out.

 

It continued as if Stiles had not spoken.  “When a samurai disembowels himself with his own sword to maintain his honor, but that’s not the cut that kills him. The killing stroke is made by his kaishakunin--his trusted friend-- who beheads the samurai with his own Katana.”  It gestured towards Scott.  

 

“Scott.”  Stiles wheezed out.  The teen in question froze.

 

“Scott is your kaishakunin.  I’m going to make your best friend kill you, Stiles.  And you’re going to _let_ him. Because just like you, they’re all going to die. Everyone touched by an Oni’s blade--your father, the deputies, the living from the hospital massacre, Scott’s mother, Deaton, and so many more.  All those souls hinging on your death.   _They are all going to die._  Unless Scott kills you first.”

 

“Why?”  She breathed out, shivering.  “Why are you doing this?”

 

“To win the game.”  It snarled.

 

The world tilted and the family was once more deposited outside.  

 

The battle there was still raging, the three attacking and being slashed by the Oni.  Roars and growls and singing blades filled the air.  The Nogitsune was watching as one of the twins got slashed in the back and fell before he popped back up into the fray.  “This can’t be real.”  He grit out.

 

“Yeah tell that to them.”  The other shouted back.  

 

The older version of Derek grabbed one of the Oni and snapped it’s neck. “Someone get the box!”   It froze briefly before a crack rang out and it attacked again.  

 

One of the twins raced towards the box before the stairs but came to an abrupt halt as two more Oni appeared directly in his path.  “I hate ninjas.”  He growled out.  

 

The three werewolves went back to back as they were surrounded by the four Oni and the world fell out beneath Laura’s feet leaving the battle unfinished but the snow drifting in her eyes.

 

Swords clashing and growls and snarls were ringing out in the garden as well as Scott and Kira attacked the four Oni that had appeared at some point while the Hale Pack was outside.  Kira’s Katana suddenly went flying away from her and then the Oni began to slash at her and Scott as they tried to defend themselves with hand to hand.  

 

Everything froze when Scott turned away from the Oni attacking him and shouted Stiles’ name, his expression one of fear.

 

Laura’s stomach dropped as she took in Stiles holding Kira’s katana with the blade pointing towards her abdomen.

 

“Stiles, no!”  He shouted.

 

The Nogitsune was still on the stairs and it released a pleased growl.

 

“Stiles.”  Kira this time.  The Oni had stopped attacking.  Everyone it seemed was awaiting the outcome.

 

“What if it saves you?  What if it saves all of you?”  Stiles asked, her voice shaking but her expression determined as she glanced around her.  

 

“What if it’s just another trick?” Came Lydia’s shout from the sidelines.

 

Stiles shook her head sharply. “No more tricks, Lyds.”

 

The Nogitsune appears to have become bored by the exchange.  “End it, Scott.”  It hissed.  “Help your friend fall on her own sword.  Do for her what she cannot do for herself.  Do it, Scott. Be her kaishakunin.”  It turned towards Stiles, it’s metal teeth barred.  “Give up the game.  You have no more moves.”

 

Stiles steadied her arm and took in a deep breath before she turned the katana and tossed it to Kira who caught it in her hand.  “I do.”  She looked right at the Nogitsune and smiled at it.  “A _divine_ move.”

 

The world shifted and the Hale Pack was outside again.  The battle still raging but at some point Isaac and Chris appeared.  Once they did and two of the Oni fell, the Hale Pack found themselves tugged towards the school as the version of the Nogitsune that had Stiles’ face retreated there.

 

The vision before them snapped back to the snowy garden just before the Stiles Nogitsune reached the doors.  Stiles was still staring down her gauze wrapped enemy but she quickly turned towards Scott. Whatever strength she had found to wield the sword appeared to be fading as she shook where she stood.  “Stop fighting them!  It’s an illusion.  You have to stop fighting them.  It looks real and it feels real, but Scott you’ve gotta trust me.  It’s an illusion.”

 

Stiles was staring at Scott pleadingly and although he looked reluctant he nodded towards her which caused Stiles to release a deep breath and then start to fall backwards.  If Lydia hadn’t stepped up behind her, Stiles would have crashed to the ground.  The redhead grasped Stiles to her side and held her up as they watched Scott and Kira sheathe their claws and sword, respectively and begin to walk towards the group of Oni which formed a double train.  

 

Laura watched, her eyes wide, jaw dropped as the group proceeded to walk between the Oni who grasped their swords and slashed at them as they passed.  Each person earned slashes at their chest, their backs, arms, and legs.  The scent of blood permeated the air as the crimson dyed the white snow.  

 

The group pushed forward though, the Nogitsune snarling even as Scott grabbed it and shoved it out the door of the garden until he came to a stumbling halt as the bandaged form disappeared and the rest of the group fell out after him into the normal hallway of the high school.  

 

Scott glanced around, his face surprised and relieved.  He turned towards the group.  “We’re okay guys.  We’re o--.”  He was cut off as he was grabbed from behind and thrown viciously into the lockers by the Nogitsune Stiles.  Kira pulled out her katana but before she could get close enough to use it, the figure backhanded her which sent her sprawling upon the ground and her sword ricocheted off the tile and slid out of view.   

 

The Nogitsune turned towards the real Stiles and Lydia, her expression furious.  “This was my game.”  She hissed at them as she began to step forward, the two holding onto each other and skittering backwards.  “You think you can beat me at my game?”

 

She kept advancing as Stiles and Lydia continued to stumble away.  “Divine Move?   _Divine Move?_ You think you have any moves at all?”  She snarled, and began to walk faster towards them, her face darkening.  “You can kill the Oni but me?   _Me?  I’m a thousand years old!  YOU CAN’T KILL ME_!”  She roared.

 

Lydia’s voice stopped the Nogitsune’s advance cold.  “But we can change you.”

 

“What?”  

 

“You forgot about the scroll.  The Shugendo Scroll.”  Stiles breathed.

 

Realization flooded the Nogitsune’s face.  “Change the host.”

 

“You can’t be a fox and a wolf.”  Stiles snarked.

 

Derek was suddenly standing in the high school hallway, his eyes blazing red as he snuck up behind the Nogitsune and grabbed her right arm in a tight grip as he sunk his teeth into the meat of her arm.  The Nogitsune screams and Derek backs up just in time for Kira to come up behind and plunge her Katana through it’s heart.  

 

The Nogitsune and Stiles begin screaming at the same time as the pack--both invisible and not--react to the rumble of thunder echoing from outside and the lights beginning to flicker.  The Nogitsune’s body began to twitch and flail like a demented puppet and suddenly a fly came shooting out of it’s mouth.  Laura watched as it flew away until it was suddenly caught by Isaac who appeared out of nowhere with the triskele cylinder.  He slammed the lid shut and Laura turned back towards the other group as she heard a thud.

 

The Nogitsune was on it’s knees and it stilled.  The dead eyes stared straight forward as cracks started to fissure up her pale face.  This was the face that the family had become familiar with.   _This_ was their guide--not the Nogitsune when it was at the height of it’s power, not the Nogitsune in it’s bandaged form, but the Nogitsune at the moment of it’s defeat.  The figure started to fall forward and it turned to dust before it ever hit the ground.  

 

Stiles was not so lucky however, the blackness swallowing the Hale Pack.

 

The blackness abated sooner rather than later as Stiles resurfaced, her head cushioned by her jacket.  Everyone was looking down at her, Lydia closest as she was on her knees to look into her eyes.  “Oh gods, I fainted, didn’t I?”  She joked.  Then she glanced around from where she was lying.  “We’re alive.”  She looks at Scott.  “We all alive?”

 

His mouth tightened but he responded.  “Yeah.  We’re okay.”  

 

Laura saw Lydia stiffen, shoot to her feet and then begin running down the hall.  Stiles struggled to her feet and tripped over her body as she ran behind her.  The halls blurred by and suddenly they were outside staring at the near empty battlefield from earlier.  

 

Chris Argent was standing resolutely beside the twins as they were on the ground, one hugging the other tightly as he spat up black goo and blood.  

 

“Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me?”  The bleeding one gasped out.

 

His brother was crying, his chest heaving as he gathered his brother into his lap.  “Yeah.  Yeah, Aiden it does.”  

 

“It’s okay.”  The other breathed through shallow gasps.  “Lydia never believed I was one of the good guys anyway.”

 

Ethan sobbed.  “She’ll believe me.”

 

Aiden soothed his brother until his last breath fell and his chest stopped.  Then Ethan cradled his brother’s still form in his arms and rocking, began to sob unrestrained.  Chris Argent stood sentry over the grieving brother as Lydia turned and buried her own tear streaked face into Stiles’ chest.  Stiles’ expression was horrified, pale, and weary.  Then she flinched, her eyes flickering as if she heard something.

 

The memories cycled.  Colors and snatches of conversation being heard and distorted and there and then gone back into the ether of time.  

 

The pack was quiet as they stood grouped around one another, their guide just as silent.  Laura had found it odd, her lack of comments throughout her reign, but she would bet that she would be as quiet during her own downfall as well.  

 

Laura looked around once the world solidified again.  Stiles and Derek were in the boy’s locker room, the sun was streaming through the windows bathing the room in a golden hue.  Stiles was standing beside Derek while he was sitting on one of the benches.  

 

“When Peter and I were gone, when we took Cora back to her pack, we were captured by a hunter family called the Calavera’s.  They’re based in Mexico.  We were captured and tortured.  They wanted to know about something they called La Loba.  Braedan had come in to save us and we had escaped along with the Triskele cylinder.  And then the Nogitsune happened.”  He looked up at Stiles seeing her flinch and cross her arms over her chest.  “But this was different.”  He continued, looking down at his spread palms.  “It was a dream.  It was a dream but it felt like a nightmare.”

 

“Okay.  What happened?”

 

“Some of the hunters must have followed us back home.  They broke into my loft.  They were looking for La loba--a female shifter.  And I thought they meant Cora so I told them I’d never tell them where she is.  But they said they weren’t interested in Cora.  They didn’t even know who she was.  When they were going to explain a smoke bomb exploded out of nowhere and everyone started shooting and there were screams.  And then I saw this figure through the smoke and next thing I know I’m shot in the stomach and I’m bleeding.”

 

Stiles crosses over to Derek and sits beside him.  “Who was it?”

 

Derek avoids the question.  “There’s a lot of myths about how people can be turned into a werewolf.  Usually a bite.  There’s one about rainwater.  Or if you get scratched--if the claws go deep enough.”  

 

Stiles shuffled closer to him on the bench.  “Derek, if this is all just a dream, why do you look so worried?”

 

“Because I don’t remember waking up.”  He turned to face Stiles, looking directly into her eyes.  “So tell me.  How do you know?  How do you know if you’re still dreaming?”

 

Stiles opened her mouth to answer when suddenly the door to the locker room slammed open and Boyd rushed in.  Derek and Stiles froze and Laura didn’t have to be in the moment to know that both their hearts stuttered at the sight of him.

 

Boyd ran towards them, his eyes large and determined as he grasped each of them.  “Derek you need to wake up.  Count your fingers now.  You need to wake up _right now_!”  He turned towards Stiles and shook her.  “Tell him Stiles.  Now!”

 

“Yes.”  She stuttered.  “You have extra fingers in dreams.”

 

The two watched as Derek counted his fingers, gasped, and then suddenly disappeared.  Stiles whirled on Boyd and he grabbed both her arms now in his grip.  “Stiles you need to wake up right now.  Derek is in danger.  Okay?  So you need to get to Derek.  You need to wake up right now.  Wake up!”

 

Stiles jolted awake in her bed and she scrambled up grabbing a pair of jeans from the floor that she jumped into.  She snatched her wallet and keys up while she shoved her feet into some shoes and she ran through the house, tripping down the stairs and out into the jeep which she proceeded to throw into drive and gunned it down the street and presumably towards Derek’s loft.  

 

Laura could sense her parents and Derek were near vibrating out of their skin as Stiles floored it to Derek’s loft.  They watched as Stiles drove into the parking lot and slammed on the brakes, turning the car off quickly and jumping out.  The elevator claimed to be out of order so they were forced to watch as Stiles nearly flew up the stairs, her lungs straining and heart pounding until she came to Derek’s floor.

 

The door was open and smoke was wafting out of the opening.  Stiles ran in and froze as she saw multiple dead bodies littering the floor and a blonde woman standing over Derek where he was kneeling, his hands covered in blood that was oozing from his chest.

 

The figure whirled towards Stiles and Laura heard her mother’s breath catch.  

 

“What the hell is that?”  Laura whispered, horrified as she took in the blue/black features of the woman before her with fangs and glowing green eyes.

 

Peter answered, his voice awed but terrified.  “It’s a werejaguar.  Extremely rare.  Extremely volatile.”

 

Before anyone else could say anything the woman’s odd features receded to form an attractive face with piercing blue-green eyes which sent Talia growling.  “Well what do we have here, Derbear?”

 

“Run, Stiles!”  Derek choked out, blood spewing over his lips.  

 

Stiles didn’t move though.  She stood there staring down the blonde woman who was standing hip cocked with her shotgun hanging from her right hand, ready to use.  “Stiles, Scott McCall’s best friend right?”  She turned slightly on her heel to look towards Derek.  “Well, it looks like it’s my lucky day.”  She turned back.  “Two for the price of one.”

 

“Kate, don’t.  She’s got...nothing to do with this.”

 

Kate turned around and kicked Derek in the side which caused him to fall over with a grunt.  “She has quite a lot to do with it I think.”

 

Stiles used this moment to take a few steps forward but stopped when Kate turned around to face her once more.  

 

“Maybe you can tell me what happened to Allison.  And then I can leave you as a message to Scott. Although,”  She drawled, her eyes lighting up. “I heard that the last time daddy did that to you Scott didn’t even notice there _was_ a message.  I mean he didn’t even know you were gone.  Too bad for you.  I mean that _had_ to hurt to be pushed aside so easily.  To be forgotten.  To not be looked for because you _didn’t matter anymore_.  If ever.”

 

Derek lifted his head at the words and looked towards Stiles but she ignored him, focused entirely on Kate.

 

“You’re right.”  Stiles stepped forward.  “I _can_ tell you what happened to Allison.  I took a sword and I stuck it in her gut.”  She took another step.  Kate’s hand squeezed the gun so hard that the metal groaned and bent.  “I stood there and watched as she gasped out her last breaths.  As she choked on her words and her blood.  And you want to know something else Katie?  I _liked_ it.”

 

“No!”  Derek barked.  “Kate she’s lying.  She didn’t do it sh--.”

 

Stiles cut in staring Kate down.  “No don’t listen to him.  You’re supernatural now.  You tell me.  Did you hear my heart skip?  Did I really lie?  How about I say it again?  I _murdered_ your niece and I stayed around long enough to see her die--cold and left on the ground.”

 

Kate roared and threw herself at Stiles but Stiles was quicker, her right hand raised and eyes blazing gold.  The half transformed woman went flying back and into the same column the Nogitsune had thrown Derek into.  Her eyes were blazing green as they met Stiles’.  Stiles walked even closer to her and while Kate tried to get up she found that she couldn’t.  Her eyes grew wide the closer Stiles got to her prone form.  

 

Stiles crouched.  “You’re right--your daddy did get ahold of me but what I’m interested in is the fact that that happened after Peter ripped your throat out so that begs the question, how did you know that?  You wanna hear my theory?”  She leaned in, a mocking smile on her lips.  Kate gave no reply except the grunts she made as she attempted to move.  “I think that dear old dad showed up and dug your corpse out of your grave just to make sure you were dead but when he found out you weren’t he absconded with you and hid you away until you learned to control your powers.  You know what that means about you and your precious daddy, Katie?  That you’re both _hypocrites_ .”  She sneered.  “You father wanting to be a werewolf to beat his cancer when it was what he deserved at the very least.  And you.  So happy to fuck up every life you come into.  So _proud_ of being a hunter.  Of being an _Argent_ .  And yet such a _fucking_ coward.  The only one of you that displayed any of the honor your so called family seems to boast about was Allison’s mother.  And I hated her but you’ve gotta respect a woman who stands by her principles--even if they weren’t her own.  And how sad is that,”  Stiles lamented, her eyes ablaze.  “That the only person to follow your code--almost entirely, we’ll ignore the time she tried to murder Scotty for now--was someone who married into your family and not one born by blood?”

 

“You know nothing about us.”  Kate spat out.

 

“Oh believe me.  I know everything about you.  All of you.”  Stiles assured.

 

“Is that true, Derek?  Does she know _everything_?”

 

Derek groaned from where he still was on the ground but didn’t answer, his face watching Stiles’ instead of paying attention to Kate.

 

“Yes.”  Stiles hissed.  “And you wanna know something that you don’t know?”

 

Kate grunted.

 

“Your daddy’s dead.”  Stiles crooned and she laughed as Kate released a roar.  “That’s right.  The little human killed your psychotic father.  And guess what else.  You’re gonna see him real soon.”

 

“Stiles, don’t.”  Derek moaned as he finally sat up.  “Don’t do this.”  Stiles looked towards him.  “You can stop now.”  He whispered but Stiles’ eyes were sad and the blaze dimmed as she looked at him.  

 

“No, Derek.”  She sighed.  “I can’t.  She’s still here.  And if she’s still here, she can still hurt you.”  The blaze lit up now, brighter than ever.  “And I won’t allow that to happen.”  She turned towards Kate and then there was a flash of silver as Stiles pulled something from her pocket and suddenly Kate was choking.  

 

Laura took a step closer and saw that Stiles had pulled out Gerard’s knife and stuck it through Kate’s heart.  She hadn’t even seen Stiles pocket it after she had beheaded the original owner.  Why had she kept it?

 

“Your knife won’t kill me.”  Kate gasped out.

 

Stiles’ lips twisted into a dark smirk, her eyes still burning.  “Actually, if I believe it will, this knife will do whatever I want.  Bye bye Kate.”  And she twisted the handle.

 

Kate’s body spasmed around the knife and her eyes rolled back before she collapsed in a crumpled heap on the floor of Derek’s loft.  

 

Stiles stood up and had to catch herself on the column before she fell over.  She stood there for a moment until Derek made another noise of pain and slithered onto his back once more.  At the the sound she was off, stumbling over towards him until she collapsed beside him and placed her hand onto his wound.  “This is still gonna hurt.”  She cautioned.

 

She waited until Derek nodded and then she applied pressure, blood pooling around her hand.  Her eyes blazed and Derek’s back bowed upward, a roar exploding from his chest.  He sat up suddenly and Stiles pulled her arm back but almost overbalanced and would have had Derek not grasped her arm and held her upright.

 

“You okay?”  She asked, gasps coming from her throat and she swayed where she knelt.

 

Derek nodded and then glanced towards where Kate and the other hunter’s bodies were.  “What do we do about them?”

 

Stiles’ eyes returned slowly to their dimmed whiskey color as she glanced from Derek to the corpses currently littering his floor.  She heaved a breath and looked him in the eye, her expression steeled, almost blank.  “I know a place we can get rid of the bodies.”

 

Derek snapped his attention back towards Stiles and when she nodded he returned the gesture and the two helped each other stand.  


End file.
